


a kinda chemistry

by DedeDrabbles



Category: Cyberpunk & Cyberpunk 2020 (Roleplaying Games), Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Afro-Latina V, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Dancing, F/M, First Time Riding Motorcycle, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Heavily OC V, Idiots in Love, Jackie Doesn't Like V At First, Motorcycles, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DedeDrabbles/pseuds/DedeDrabbles
Summary: "You really think I was gonna make it that fast?""Yeah," he admits easily, not matching her humor, because he believes it.He's seen her scheme, seen her intimidate, seen her seize her opportunities by the neck. V has too much of the cool, too much of the willpower, to not be the fixer she's dreamed of. It's not like she's the first little fish to have big ideas, but... She wants it, in a way Jackie has never known from anyone else. In a way that doesn't have room for tempering herself, in settling for less."Vas a hacer grandes cosas."
Relationships: Female V/Jackie Welles, V/Jackie Welles
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	1. ain't you lonely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for Spanish is in highlights!

When he's done tying loose ends, he's walking away with enough to keep his garage space, pay the bills for his mamá, and then some. Which is all he can fairly ask for...

"¿Así que eso es todo?" Jackie asks, after receiving the eddies. So that's all?

"Eso es todo," Padre nods sagely, but obviously catches the double-meaning that Jackie didn't mean to reveal, "Unless there's anything I can help _you_ with, Jaquito?" That is all.

It's all he can fairly ask for, but that's the annoying thing, isn't it? Having to still be _fair_ , while being a _merc_. Somehow this paygrade seemed... bigger, when he was first asked.

"Nope!" he lies with a casual, friendly salute, heading down the stairs of El Coyote. Padre and him are on good terms, but - it's not worth staking his professionalism on it. Or his karma, asking for more money out of a _priest_. "Es un placer trabajar contigo, como siempre." It is a pleasure working with you, as always.

"Go with God."

Even if he can't complain about it, it doesn't stop Jackie from being a little begrudged on the ' _and then some_ ' part. It's not enough to seriously spend; _still_ not enough to spend on the Arch he's been eyeing and he doesn't really need any more swag to add to himself. A BD? Maybe have a drink with má, on her break? _Ehh_ , it'd be a waste.

The solo sighs to himself, _guessing_ he'll add it to his saving account of ennies, the never-ending grind.

Plans go haywire all the time, though.

Just as he's heading out, she catches his eye, and nearly makes him trip over himself.

A coppery-skinned woman sitting at the bar, with big hair tied into a high afro puff. Body like a cola bottle, but drinking whiskey like she plays with the big boys. _Miles and miles of legs_ , from what he can tell. _Apple ass_ , pointed right in his direction.

Jackie can only see the back of her, but that's precisely the side he needs to decide he wants her as a notch on his belt.

... _Well,_ maybe he can spend a _little_ bit of his savings.

A game plan is already forming in his head as he strides his way towards her; he's going for low effort. Many times, has he spoke Spanish-nonsense to the next pretty girl - outright insulted them, even - and they've giggled along and gone home with him, thinking they earned themselves some _'exotic lover'._ _T'ch!_ Because women love that romance novel, mommy-porno shit.

"Hola, hermosa. Ain't you lonely over here?" He welcomes himself into the seat next to her, grin already rearing to charm. "Tienes un cuerpo que me vuelve loco - _Eugh!_ " Hey, beautiful (...) You got a body that drives me crazy - _Eugh!_

The front of her isn't quite as pretty.

Mainly because she's missing the _skin_ to half her face, replaced with matte-black skull from the nose-down.

With nothing there to look at, his attention can't help but be drawn straight to her eyes, which is especially strange for Jackie. They're this kind of... _pinkish-red color_ , with crosshairs for pupils, like she's pointing a gun right at him with just her gaze. The thing is, even with no lips to smile with either, he can still tell that she is - Those eyes do it for her, crinkling cutely once the surprise of his arrival has worn off, telling him to _go on_.

It's intimidating.

It also makes him wonder what it would look like, watching them roll back as he fucks her stupid.

 _Okay, okay._ Maybe she can't give head, but she's still pretty enough. Jackie's open-minded. If anything, he's doing her a _favor_ , loving a lonely soul like her's - even if just for the night. He can still do this.

"Me asustaste con esa cara tuya. ¿Naciste con una nariz grande o algo así? ¿Enganche de dientes?" He says all molasses, tone differing from the words, and skull-mamacita ignorantly huffs a laugh. Jackie braves running his fingertips up and down her arm, testing the waters, familiarizing his hands to her. Her gaze flickers between his touch and his face, but she makes no indication of offense; a good sign, because it means she's at least thinking about it. "Al menos tienes buenas tetas. _Maldición_. De ninguna manera eres todo real. ¿Quiero decir, una cintura anoréxica, pero tetas y culo colosales?" You scared me with that face of yours. Were you born with a big nose or something? Crooked teeth? At least you have good tits. _Damn._ You are by no means all real. I mean, an anorexic waistline, but colossal boobs and ass?

Her opposite arm rises to prop her head up as if she's _so_ interested in what he has to say, and Jackie uses the act as an excuse to lean into her personal space.

"¿Dime, es más difícil dar cabeza ahora?" Tell me, is it harder to give head now?

"Realmente no. Aunque ya no soy tan bueno, te lo daré." Not really. Although I'm not that good anymore, I'll give you that.

It takes him a hot second to realize he doesn't have to translate the words in his head.

He almost thinks maybe someone else said it, because the lady in front of him is still smiling with her eyes.

"...You speak Spanish?"

"Claro que si," she, very fluently and very _unfortunately_ , replies. "Y besas a _tu_ madre con esa boca." Of course. And _you_ kiss your mother with that mouth.

No, she definitely said it, and definitely understood him.

 _Fuck, she understood him._ Understood _all_ that.

The solo is stupid enough to chuckle, more out of being nervous than finding any humor, and tries to recover. "So, uh, where'd you learn?"

"Oh, you know, _mi madre latina_. Mixed people exist."

Jackie's beginning to suspect her consistent grinning might be an indication that she'll kick his ass, and not that she finds him cute.

"I, um... Sorry, novia. You see, I get kind of nervous, and..."

" _Mmmhm,_ " humming, _so_ amused, but the smile of her eyes drops for a moment. "You're sorry, now that you've been caught, but I could tell you _wanted_ me to think you were flirting. How often does _that_ whole thing work?"

Being honest will reveal how often he really does sleep around, and - while he's pretty sure he's bombed this - Jack can't help but hold out hope that he hasn't completely humiliated himself; he's praying he can at least leave on that _lovable_ note, rather than forever stain this memory as something that he'll cringe to in his sleep. " _Aha_ , uh. The prettier girl is, the less well I do with 'em."

"' _Pretty',_ " She's not really having it, though. The solo almost wishes she _would_ just kick his ass already. If Jackie can handle being shot at, he can - and, _oh, he has_ \- handle his fair share of smacks from the opposite sex; he's not immune to shooting too high. Instead, though, this lady has caught him on his shit and she's _merciless_ in digging into him for it. Not even with any ire, but like a feline that just caught its dinner. "Thought I _scared_ you, Valentino."

"I haven't been a Valentino since I was a kid, novia," Right. Again, she understood all that. "But I just meant that you, uh, _surprised me_ , you know? I'm used to seein' that kind of shit on gangs."

Skull-mamacita hums again, like she doesn't believe that shit for the life of her, but otherwise doesn't answer.

"...Why - " A clear of his throat. "Why the skin removal anyway?"

She doesn't answer that one either, raising a sharp brow at him instead. Now she really is making him nervous. What does he do, get up and leave? _Real smooth_ -

A gentle palm curls over his hand on the bar top, slender fingers twisting the Valentino ring he still wears, and a slow, silent moment passes where she simply fondles his jewelry. Jackie can't tell if she wants to hold his hand or break it, but either way, it makes his heart stutter.

"...What would you have said? If you had just assumed I understood you?" the stranger offers, finally breaking the reverence. "What do you tell those pretty girls in _English?_ "

_Oh?_

"...Um..." Don't play with his heart and tell him this is salvageable, now. "You're putting me on the spot here, beautiful."

"A drink might loosen you up, if you got the eddie's for it."

Ah, so that's her angle; she wants a man to take good care of her, a daddy to spoil her, somebody to make her rich _and_ make her cum. Though Jackie's not the _richest_ man in the world, tonight he could be. For her.

He signals for Pepe to give the lady another whiskey, and orders one for himself while he's at it. "You got a name?"

"Why?" The drink slides into her hands easily, and Jackie watches as the cheeks to her skull slide shut along with it; it's a heavy custom job, with a lot of thought put into it, he realizes. He watches her tip her head back, follows the line of her open throat, where a speaker is installed into its center... "Do you need it?"

 _Do you need it to fuck me?_ he hears in those words, and grins. Consideration. A non-promise. "Well, I got to call you somethin', don't I?"

She answers with only her heavy stare again, all coy silence, all mystery.

"How 'bout..." he mulls for a moment. " _Jaina?_ "

She scoffs. It's slang that's usually reserved for special somebodies, and the subtle bend of her brow tells him the sheer _intimacy_ of that flusters her. _Bingo._ "Not gonna save that one for your girlfriend?"

"Maybe I want _you_ to be my girlfriend."

"Maybe you want a lot of girlfriends."

" _Heeey_ , who says I ain't starting to crush on you? Don't sell yourself short," Jackie purrs, now that he's back in her good graces. "You know, I laid my eyes on you, and I could've _sworn_ I found the one..."

"Because of my anorexic waist, or my fat ass?"

Or not. Just because she's offered a little give, doesn't mean she'll let him forget. _Damnit._

"What about you?" she asks, after a swig of her glass. "What's _your_ name?"

Why should he tell, if she won't? "Why don't you come up with a pet-name for me, huh? Might be kind of _sexy_ , not knowin' who we are and shit..."

"Oh, _honey_. You really wanna figure out what _I'd_ call you?"

"...That's fair," Besides, he can redeem himself by having her scream it, later. "It's Jackie."

"Jackie..." she repeats, feeling it on her tongue, a mimicry for what's to come. "You're a solo, right? I saw you talking to that man upstairs."

"Were you watching me?"

Jaina offers a little wiggle of her brows before another sip of whiskey. Maybe she thinks he's cute, after all. "Are you any good?"

His grin broadens. "I'm good at a lot of things."

Jackie so does love a woman who's willing to put up with his nonsense. Those pretty jewel eyes roll, but still she gestures for Pepe to leave the bottle, the strong whiskey and good company making the hours bleed away. Throughout the day, he succeeds in getting her to laugh, in convincing her to allow his arm around her, in leaving the bar in favor of a night around town, where he buys her a cozy jacket from an old underground band. Eventually, when they get into the dark clubbing hours, he’s convinced her to dance.

This is how she'll kill him, he thinks. With thumping bass through his ribs, and alcohol in his blood, and her ass grinding circles around his cock.

Somewhere in the distance, hidden deep under the pounding music and the dim glow of neon lights, he can hear some other couple fucking among the crowd. An echo of what they could be.

"Hey," he manages against her ear, and Jackie _revels_ in the responding touch, Jaina reaching back to cup the back of his neck and keep him close. With the hours-long familiarity and the drinks loosening their inhibitions, they've since gotten _grabby_. He palms the wideness of her hips, finding her front pockets and sliding into them, guiding her hips. "Why don't we go back to my place?"

Jackie feels her hum more than hears it, his new lady-friend pretending to consider, but the continuous slither of her body tells him she has no plans to stop. "What for?"

 _Tease_. Like she can't feel it.

"Got a really cool bed I wanna show you," He gives a too-hard, good-humored buck into her ass, making her dance stutter. Good-naturedly and probably a little drunk, her head falls back against his shoulder in a free laugh. Jackie likes it; the boisterousness, the trusting weight against him, the opening of her neck. " _Come ooon_ , don't you like me?"

Her head turns to meet his eyes, and if it weren't for her lack of lips, Jackie would take it as invitation to kiss her. But instead they just hold each other’s gazes, and somewhere at some point, they start going against the music; like it isn't even playing, like clubs and people aren't within miles of them. Their dancing stops and their slow grind starts, foreplay, a dry fuck.

If he really strains his ears, the lady of the other pair starts really pornstar-moaning. It's _gotta_ be fake, but it makes Jackie want to compete against them all the more, imagining his new friend singing for him like that. More _real_ , though. _Obviously._

Jaina leans more heavily against him - breathing deeply and eyes fluttering shut - and when he squeezes her hips particularly hard, she gives a shaky sigh against his ear.

...Maybe he doesn't need to make her moan at all. Maybe he can live with her just shuddering against him like that, all desperate and blissful at once. Maybe it can be the thing of wet dreams for weeks, because _Jesús_ , if he could fall in love -

She's quick to twist and manhandle him against the nearby wall, which he smiles at - because it's _fun_ , this cat and mouse - until he finds his resistance falls futile.

Jackie's gone the extra mile for mods that grant him more strength. Yet this woman - this woman pinning him with her target pupils, leaning towards him, welcoming herself into his bubble - she's _stronger_ than him.

Her metal teeth trace the line of his jaw, all the way to his ear, where they detour to _clamp_ onto his earring as if preparing to _rip it out._ The solo, and all his memories of dancing with death, _stiffens._

She let's go, leaning back to meet his eyes again.

"Do I still _scare_ you, Valentino?"

He swallows thickly.

Maybe she should, maybe he's deluding himself, but all Jackie can think to do is _curse himself_ for thinking she wasn't as pretty before. Sure, there's the face decor, but - It's all in her voice, her eyes, the way she moves. Whoever this stranger is, she radiates beauty and danger.

"Just want you to stop teasin'..."

And, _God_ , he's _real fuckin' horny for it._ He wants her to stop, but also _never_ wants her to stop.

"Oh, but you're _veeery_ tease-able, you know," Curling her finger around his neck-chain, she tilts her head, like she's deciding what to pick on a menu. "But alright. Maybe I ought to reward all that patience."

His new lay turns again and begins wading through the way out, finger over her shoulder and still curled around his chain, Jackie being led like a dog on a leash. He can't say he minds the feeling, knowing it means he'll finally get his bone. It's not long until Jackie feels the dropping feeling of the loud music leaving his skull, now standing in the quieter streets of Night City. It's rained recently, the pavement beneath them wet, the moist air cooling the sweat on his neck...

"Oh hey, wait," he remembers, sobering somewhat. "Not that you ain't a real lady that deserves the royal treatment, _buuut_... While I still remember, can I get my card back?"

While they were out on the town, Jackie played like a true sugar daddy, and just gave his baby his eddie's to spend away on. It made him a little nervous, because he's no corpo billionaire, but fortunately his lady-friend doesn't want for much. Other than toying with him, as she plays coy for a hot minute, but soon digs in her pocket all the same and holds it between two fingers. "You mean this?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Just as he reaches for it, she draws her hand back, eyes crinkling playfully.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he laughs, ignoring the nervous pang of having his profit in someone else's hands. "I could get you greedy for something else... Come on, mami, hand it over."

She doesn't.

Instead, the chip flicks around her fingers, red eyes staring him down.

Plans for sex become _very_ distant, _very_ quickly.

"... _Chica,_ " he warns, "Hand it over - "

She bolts.

Like _, actually_ bolts, lightning quick.

" - _Hey!_ " Jackie is quick to collect his bearings and give chase, pushing the muscles in his legs to gain on her. All attraction for her is abandoned in his dust at this point; another fuckin' thieving wannabe, thinking she could get her big break in Night City, now surviving by stealing other people's hard-fucking-work! He _murdered_ for those eddie's - she better be praying he only busts her teeth out of her _dumb, metal skull_ for this!

Just as he's breaking a sweat to close in on her, he watches her skid and rear into an ally. _He's got you now, you piece of -_

But when he skids to a halt himself, she's not down it's dark corridor.

Instead, he finds her hopping between the walls, a sickening _crunch_ in the bricks being left in her wake. _What the fuck?_

Before the solo can even blink on it, she's disappeared onto one of its roofs and her footsteps have pattered away. She's... _gone_ , just like that, along with his eddie's.

...His _eddie's_. His fucking money! For his family! He got _shot at_ for that!

"...Oh _Dios mío_ _,"_ he murmurs to himself, hand wiping over his face, defeat settling in. "¿Qué le voy a decir a mi mamá?" What am I going to tell my mom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew something for this!  
> https://nightcringey.tumblr.com/post/630854488794808320/got-bad-intentions-technically-some-art-to-my
> 
> also, already starting to see some canon divergence!!  
> \- Jackie & my v didn't start out so smoothly. As endearing as it is that Jackie immediately takes to v, I wanted a little more bonding + some more prologue time. I seem to remember playtesters going on about how they had four hours to play the prologue but??? it ends in like ten or twenty minutes????


	2. AND he didn't get laid

The stolen eddie's fucks him up for the next couple of days.

To be fair, he doesn't go crazy enough to go looking for the culprit. No, she's long lost to the city, probably having spent all his hard-earned cash - on _drugs_ or _booze_ or _something_ , _the fuckin' junkie_ \- anyway. Forget looking to the police to find her without turning his own ass in, either; at least until some corpo slime wants his services for _politics_ , ugh.

It doesn't stop him from obsessing about it in his head, though, replaying the events. Fucking _bottom-feeders_.

It also doesn't stop him from fantasizing in his sleep, those pretty, smiling eyes and shuddering breathes, sticking with him through his dreams. Fucking _bottom-feeders_ , or _fucking_ bottom-feeders. That's his life right now.

Got his money stolen, _AND_ he didn't get laid. What a shitfest.

Regardless, what _really_ sucks-ass is that it results in him taking on extra work, to make up for what was lost. Despite the near-constant state of crime that Night City is in, it's sometimes hard to get good jobs. Way too many people think they're the richest person around while only making _slightly more_ than minimum-wage, or that they're in a bartering society and they can persuade him into getting his hands dirty for basically nothing, and it's up to Jackie to weed out who's genuine or not. It'd be easier to work with big names exclusively, but... he's not quite there yet.

"3,000."

When first approached, he had said 15,000. "The fuck? That's less than _half_ of what we agreed."

"I saw the Valentino jacket, and was under the impression I was talking to a _gang_. Then you show up here, by yourself, and tell me you're a solo," his current employer - Kirk - scoffs, before taking a long drag of his cigar. His gordito of a bodyguard flexes beside him, daring Jackie to make a _thing_ out of it, just so they can have something to do. "I'd say all the false advertising was on _your_ part, kid. You think I'm gonna blow 15,000 eddie's on one-fucking-guy?"

He _has_ to be trying to stiff him, because Jackie remembers him specifically requesting a solo. Jackie tries to make good practice of not arguing with employers, but -

"Night City's an ambitious place, you know. Just about anyone out there would be willing to do this for even _less_. You want the job or not?"

...But beggars can't be choosers. Hell, maybe Jackie _should_ turn himself in, so some corpo can take notice; at least they're disgustingly rich.

"Sure - "

" _Nuh-uh_ , we're gonna need the agreed amount."

A voice cuts in, right beside him. He definitely did not agree to that. He was thinking it! But definitely did not -

_YOU._

"Uh, and who are you?"

It's her. In the exact same Samurai jacket he bought her, the thief stands beside him with her hands in her pockets, _speaking for him_. Where did she fucking come from? Has she been following him the entire time? Caught off guard, the solo doesn't have the wit to strangle her right then and there, too baffled to do much but stare.

He follows her jewel eyes until they land on him, and it's there that they smile. Though, now, it's been tainted to feel more like a _smarmy smirk_.

"We're friends," she says. His stun drops, replaced with a scowl. "Aren't we, Jackie?"

If by friends, she means she teased his dick and stole his money, then yeah. _Real fuckin' besties_.

He feels his skull go hot, the _agonizing_ for the past few days getting irritated, like a bad rash. There's just something about being so close to her again, seeing her so casual, as if she thinks she can pop in and out of his life to run it fucking amok whenever she pleases... Jackie can't help but cross his arms and frown, knowing he probably looks like a pouting bitch, but still not caring.

"You part of the Valentino's after all, then?"

"What, _that_ boys-club? No. We're our own people." Jaina lies again, and _what the fuck is she doing?_ _They're not anything._ What does she think she's achieving here? What exactly is she hoping to do? Steal his money all over again, like he's stupid enough to sit there, let it happen, fall for the same trick _twice_?

" _Uh-huh_. Well then," Kirk concedes. "I'll tell you what. Since I'm so _nice_ , I'll raise it to 6,000."

"The _agreed_ amount."

Oh.

Jackie watches the Kirk's jaw grind, staring his new 'friend' down, and reminds himself where his gun is in the back of his pants. He should probably say something, shouldn't he? Disassociate himself? Before she gets him _killed_.

...He really _does_ want his full payment, though.

"You tell me why the fuck I should hand 15,000 - "

Shit starts turning upside _, fast_. A metallic slice in the air, a sharp crack across their table, the telltale click of a gun cocking from the bodyguard.

She's pierced his employer's 'desk' with a mod in her arm - a mantis blade.

Mantis blades aren't the kind of mods someone can just _find_ at their local ripperdoc. They're police weaponry, sure, but not just any police weaponry; Arasaka-made, almost exclusive to their highest security. Or to MAX-TAC's Psycho Squad, a trained group of heavily-modded cyberpsycho's meant to take down _other_ heavily-modded cyberpsycho's. To have their gear would mean having to take one - and their entire SWAT team - down, and picking their corpse clean, which is easier said than done.

The lack of name, the strength that surpasses his. Even now - she doesn't flinch to the gun pointed at her head, cool and still.

_Who the hell is she?_

Kirk - somehow unconcerned - twists his head around the blade, examining it for legitimacy, before echoing his thoughts. "This is Militech. _Expensive_ Militech. You a _cop?_ "

"Just that good," she shrugs easily, as if _sure_ , it's just a matter of _skill._ It's not like it's _that hard_ or anything. Jesus-fucking-Christ. "You're dealing with experienced, quality-modded solo's here. Our equipment, and it's upkeep, isn't _cheap_..."

This isn't going to work. Jackie may have fallen for her charms, but if fixers aren't masters of persuasion, they're masters of danger. Besides, it's not his job to make sure they get their medicine -

"...And you'd _want_ to make sure we're _upkeeping_ , wouldn't you?"

 _A **smart** man would_, he hears in the words. A thinly veiled insult, just vague enough that he can't call her out on it, but there's no way he doesn't _feel_ it.

Kirk's glare hardens under his shades. The guns are still cocked and loaded at her head, _bored_ henchmen at the other side of it. Jackie's fingers itch for his own pistols in his hand. The air is tense - a feeling Jackie often associates with shit hitting the fan.

"15,000," he says. "You better be fuckin' worth it."

It doesn't.

Miraculously, it doesn't.

When they're laying out plans, Kirk introduces a kind of experimental hacker device for their convenience - with which, jaina thinks to stick her hand out for it before he does, managing to keep it on her person. She locks smiling eyes with him as she pockets it.

He _has_ to take her now.

Then, when all is in agreement, Jackie finds himself in the weird-as-fuck position of leaving beside his thief, feeling the _deja vu_ of walking out of last week's club with her.

" _Felicidades_ , by the way," He breaks the silence, "‘Cause you've really _fucked yourself_ on this one. Solo's don't get paid until _after_ the job."

She shrugs. "Okay."

 _...Okay?_ "What, you expect me to go do some dirty work, get paid, and just _hand you_ my money again? You ain't no pimp and I ain't no whore, in case you haven't noticed."

"Debatable," she cracks, welcoming herself to lean on _somebodies_ car, unbothered. "But what I _expect_ is 50/50. Of the work, _and_ the pay."

She _must_ be joking. Jackie waits for her façade to break, and for the cracking up to begin. Something in him still expects that teasing, tipsy girl that laughed too loud and called him ' _tease-able_ '. The girl whose breath stuttered right in his ear. The girl he's spent half the week waking up to, hard.

But that girl doesn't come. No, she only half-exists. Something he invented out of the woman sitting pretty in front of him, still coy, still mysterious, but more of a stranger to him than he realized. The real jaina isn't the one who grinded with him with promises of _maybe-_ sex, but the one who almost ripped out his earring with her teeth.

"Listen, you may have the gear, but you don't just _wake up one day_ and _decide_ you're gonna do some soloing as a side-gig," he reminds her. "Being a solo means getting into some bad shit. _All the time_. You get involved in gangs. You get involved with fixers. You get involved in _other people's_ bad blood. You're getting paid to be stuck in the middle of all their fuckin' gun-fights."

Her eyes crinkle again, like there was anything _cute_ about what he just said. "You _worried_ about me, Jackie-Baby?"

 _Jackie-Baby._ Jackie Welles _doesn't_ blush; he refuses to.

"Where'd you come from anyway, huh? What the fuck do you want?"

Jackie may not know her, but he's not deluded enough anymore to think she's here, just 'cause she _likes_ him. Everyone has an angle. Everyone comes to this city, chasing perfection, or - when they find that, if there's a such thing, _it isn't here_ \- their next meal ticket.

The thing is, she already got her's, so now what?

Her head tilts and her eyes slide right, thinking, considering.

"People always talk about having friends in high places..." she finally answers. "I wanna _be_ that friend."

...Maybe he _does_ know her, but still, he remembers her pinning him down like he's nothing. Still, he remembers the MAX-TAC mantis blades, lying in wait just beneath her skin. Still, he remembers her persuading a fixer to give more than he wants, in exchange for murder she's never done before. So he asks.

"Who _are_ you?"

Maybe he knows her, because she's just like him.

She's smiles.

"I'm V."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Made the Mantis Blades a big deal bcus I thought they were cool lmao. I also thought it'd be make canon-lore sense, if some augmentations were exclusive to certain groups, making them hard for rippers to steal and sell.


	3. billionaire boss vibes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Minor Sexual Harassment (nothing explicit or violent, just some dudes being dicks), Police Brutality

Stealing some colorful corpo's car, while it's sitting pretty in an empty garage lot, with paid-off guards and everything. Kirk even gave them that hacker device, so they wouldn't need to steal the keys; it couldn't be an easier job. Practically handed over on a silver platter. It confirms to him that Kirk _did_ ask for a solo, not a gang, and was indeed trying to stiff him. Jackie has half the sense to wonder why the fixer needs them for this _at all_ , if he's so stingy with money, but the other half knows not to vocalize that shit.

Though, he almost wishes it was harder, so his _mystery woman_ over here can learn a lesson. That lesson mainly being that _soloing isn't always a fucking cake-walk_. She can pick pockets all she wants, but this is robbing an _entire car_ with a fixer looking over their shoulder.

Moreover, she's late.

To be fair, they didn't really set a real time, but V insisted on Jackie meeting her at El Coyote yet again around noon, and he's been sitting on his ass for _half an hour_ for her. In spite of all her flaunting yesterday, _today_ she's showing to be more than a little green, which Jackie doesn't need - it's a liability, and honestly? _Below him_ , at this point.

He'd like to ditch her and claim the eddies for himself, but _she's_ got the bug with her. Already, the solo is doing her a kindness by indulging her Bonnie and Clyde fantasies. Any longer, and he'll -

"You been loitering around here for a while, hombre," Jackie turns to find Pepe has approached him, cleaning a shot glass, "You sure I can't get you anything?"

It's a testament to how long he's been here, when the lunch rush has already settled down and Pepe is asking for _something to do_ , "Uh - No, gracias. Tryin' to keep my head clear, y'know? Waiting for somebody."

" _Ah._ Who? Hot date?"

" _Sh'yeah_ , I wish," Shit, he's fed up with it. He begins calling the number she gave him in hopes that she's on her way, explaining as the line rings. "It's just me and this chica - maybe you've seen her around, yeah? She's got this... skull-mouth thing goin' on. Can't miss her."

"...Oh, you mean V? She's in the back."

Jackie hangs up.

He tries to give her the benefit of the doubt. Can't just be a customer if she's allowed in the back. Jackie hasn't seen her traipsing around _at all_ , but maybe she's on a shift that's dragging longer than expected. "Does she work here or something?"

"No, she spent the night. I owed her a favor - Or, we're oweing _each other_ a favor."

"Huh?"

"She's couch-surfing," Pepe informs matter-of-factly, already backing away. "Let me go get her for - oye _¡Oye!_ "

Jackie is going to get her himself, pushing his way out of the booth, _through_ the bartender, into the 'employee-only' area.

And sure enough, _she's there, she's been here the entire time_ , otherwise dressed but eyeliner pencil in hand - doing her makeup in the reflection of her phone camera.

"...Oh. Hey," It's magic how she can make a single word sound so buttery-warm, but Jackie isn't feeling particularly spellbound these days. No, in fact, he could _evaporate_ into _thin air_ right now. _His new partner is some homeless lady._ Pepe is quick to follow after him, who V gives an accusing stink eye to. " _Didn't know you were here_."

"¡No sabía que era él! You didn't tell me he was _Jackie_ \- we know each other," he excuses, sounding awful annoyed himself. "This don't feel much like you're doing _me_ a favor, you know." I didn't know it was him!

"It's _fine_ , Pepe," But she shrugs off any grievances, switching to reassurance as she thankfully begins packings her things away. Even with only an eye and a half done, looking a mess, she keeps her level-head. It makes Jackie grit his teeth, the way she's oh-so-casual and unapologetic. "I'll finish in the car, and get you your money while I'm at it."

 _Get you your money?_ Jackie turns to Pepe; it cows him that they've got a mutual friend. "What, she's messin' with _your_ eddies too?"

"My man over here owes Kirk some coin," V explains, chuckling, as she pulls the Samurai jacket on. "I'm getting him that coin, in exchange for settling my tab - and a night in. _Gracias, Pepe...~_ "

Getting him that coin for Kirk. _From_ Kirk. Without knowing that V and Pepe are connected, the fixer would be getting back his old money, thinking it's new. Her first job, and she's already finding ways to trick the mastermind's of Night City's crime ring.

Jackie hates to admit that it's a good con.

Regardless, Pepe scoffs at her sing-song gratitude, scratching his beard. "Just don't get used to it. You'll get free drinks again _only_ if I get to keep my legs."

He wonders if his madre would appreciate that Pepe gives out free drinks, when El Coyote struggles to stay afloat sometimes. The solo groans inwardly, looking down at V's all-too-pleased face, and her half-wing.

_'Finish in the car'._

" _What_ car?"

Apparently, V is rather expertise in the ways of _car-jacking_ too.

She has him drive, Jackie trying not to get too distracted as she does her thing, hyper-focused on her own reflection as she evens an eye out on rocky roads. Couch-surfing. _Homeless_. Somehow, he would've never guessed.

With how she acted yesterday, splitting Kirk's booth in half with mantis-blades she shouldn't have, and how she's playing him now - V has no right to be.

_And why didn't Pepe ask **him** for help?_

The solo cuts the silence, "The hell were you doin' in there?"

He breaks her concentration mid-stroke, V pausing to properly side-eye him. "...Uh, are you asking me why I'm poor?"

"There was enough on that cred-chip to get you a couple weeks in a hotel, _at least_. What'd you do with it all?"

It's the first either of them have really alluded to that night.

V pauses again, going back to her reflection on a particularly smooth part of the road, and Jackie's unsure if she'll even answer him when - "Hmmm... Makeup and booze."

 _AUUUGH!_ He could _strangle_ her right now! This alcoholic street leech has sincerely been playing the long game on him; seducing his wallet out of his pocket, threatening his employers, nabbing a cut of his jobs... All to splurge on _fucking booze!_

...But the sensible part tells him to doubt it. It was a fair amount of savings from a variety of jobs. Beer can be fairly cheap and, while Jackie is no connoisseur on makeup, the brand on her eyeliner pen isn't some prestigious one he recognizes. She ought to be _drowning_ in it, if it's true. "Yeah? Got a steel liver or something?"

"Yeah, maybe," is all she offers him, finalizing her look while he's lost in thought. As if she has the eddies to even _buy_ one. "Or maybe I just like the classy stuff."

 _Maybe_. She certainly likes to _pretend_ she's got the classy life; Jackie can see her fitting in with the corp, seamlessly, despite herself.

...Speaking of, V's gotta be like... into her thirties, right? Maybe, ehhh, _forties_ , if Jackie really wants to push it, assuming she's either strict about her health or gotten plastic surgery. Despite her situation, she's got too many 'billionaire boss' vibes to be _too_ young. "Hey... How old are you? Just curious."

"Twenty five."

Jackie chokes on his own spit, nearly breaking his steering wheel in half.

She's _three years_ his _junior!_ A handful of years off, and she'd be his age when his mother was reprimanding him straight out of the Valentino's. Shit - it'd be no wonder she's a couch-surfing booze-fiend; she's a _party girl!_

"What's the matter? How old are _you?_ "

Jackie hesitates, but can't find a good excuse not to answer, "...Twenty eight."

Her cool laugh makes his skin prickle, already defensive over any implications that his _age_ doesn't quite match his level of _success_. His incoming thirties are haunting him enough as it is, alright? The solo doesn't need to take that from someone who's _barely drinking age_ , and doesn't know how hard the struggle is.

Instead, though, she makes him out to be a dirty old man. "Like them a little young, do you?"

Scoff! She's three years his junior, but _only_ three years his junior. _Come on._ "You're old enough to _rob_ me."

"Well, that's what us ' _vulnerable young women_ ' do, isn't it? Take an older daddies money, give him sex in exchange..."

She's also too young to be bantering with him like that. Party girl's should still be easy to blush and giggle, Jackie's just decided. He'd prefer that way more, rather than the cat eyes he gets from his mysterious woman.

"Wasn't much of an exchange," he argues, _but regardless_ , he certainly doesn't want _all that_ in his bed now. "I ain't _that_ much older. And you certainly ain't _vulnerable_."

Those cat eyes smile, flattered, like she's _cute_.

* * *

"What kind of name is _V_ , anyway? How do you spell that?"

"V."

"...So it _is_ just the letter."

"Yep."

"Who the hell named you _that?_ "

" _I_ did."

Still not one much for answers, and he's done trying to make something out of her crumbs. What is it she's expecting him to gather from that - her mama dropped her off at the fucking nunnery as a baby?

As they approach the guards at the door, Jackie leans low to speak; he doesn't want anyone being _privy_ to how little they trust each other. Could be exploited, and spell bad news. "You know, where I come from, people _talk_ to each other."

"We're talkin' now," she cocks a brow at him, before easily stepping up to the armed meatheads. "Morning."

Unexpectedly, they don't immediately step aside. "This is private property. Move it."

Him and V share a glance. The solo wasn't expecting they'd actually _reply_ to her, but they usually make themselves scarce, turn the other cheek, act like they're _meant_ to be there.

"We're here to pick up a delivery?"

"Who, you? I think you're a little underdressed to be _mailmen_."

Both guards chuckle at their own joke, and _ah_. _T'ch_. Bunch of elitist fucks. Some people who've so much as stuck a _toe_ in the corpo pond acts like such big fish, regardless of how low on the food chain they really are. The solo goes over ways he can both deescalate this and _move the fuck on_ , wondering if the camera's have really been turned off, not wanting to stay out in the open like this just to be picked on.

"You're talkin' a lot of shit, but you took _our_ bosses eddies. That makes us coworkers for the time being, yeah?" Jackie reasons. "Just let us through, hombre."

"You really implying we're on the same level here?" But the other takes offense to that, trudging forward with a tough-guy bounce to his step, before directing his attention to V and leaning in real close. _Too_ close. The tingle in the back of Jackie's neck tells him there's another angle being played, getting severe _creep_ vibes. "Well, maybe we want a little tip on the side..."

He suspects they're not being genuine, testing their nerve with a fakeout, but it doesn't make him _like it_ any better. Jackie tries to find the words to say to make him _back off and cut the act_ \- but V takes that train of thought into a screeching halt when she _smiles_ at the guard with a flutter of her lashes.

...Is she...? _No._ Come on. Don't fall for that bullshit. They'll laugh. A moment of silence passes as they grin at each other, Jackie waiting for whatever to happen, until -

_CLACK!_

She _snaps_ her metal teeth near his face in a biting motion, effectively making Jackie flinch and scaring the guard straight - literally. He stands up straight again.

"We all think we're so special, don't we?" she muses, glee still in her voice, but not her eyes. "Do you think any of our employers would _care_ if we died right now? Really mourn us? Would they _honor you_ for putting your lives down for them?"

No one answers.

"I think they'd call us stupid. So, you know," V shrugs as she walks across the threshold, forcing the automatic door to slide open. " _Don't be stupid_."

The guards don't defend themselves, save for some bitter grumbling under their breath.

At least it's not just _him_ who gets that kind of energy from her.

A friend in high places.

Does she deserve that though?

Really. Does she deserve that? V's got the walk and the talk and the mods. She dishes out the wisdom like she's older, and the brazen threats like she's bigger. The confidence alone makes people fall for it. V sure knows how to _fake it_.

But, in the end, it's still _faking_.

Because she's still just an alcoholic street leech.

Jackie feels a little dizzy, a little angry, as the situation finally hits him. The things he's done, the bullshit he's put up with, _the doubt he gets_ , just to be on the same level as this newbie. It takes a couple of floors, Jackie stewing along the way, to pick out Rayfield's ride among the crowd; of course, it's straight down in VIP.

V whistles as she calls up Kirk, to update him - making good with the boss, already. "We've found it."

His visage pops up in both their optics. "And you've got the bug?"

"You mean your _wonder-tech?_ Yeah, ready to take her for a whirl."

"You're a woman of little faith," Kirk banters back, allowing sarcasm that Jackie doesn't feel he's equally privileged to. The car door's open almost immediately to the touch of V's fingers. "See? We're rich. Now fire her up and tell me when you're under way - tell you where to go. Your moment to shine, kiddo. Good luck."

 _Her_ moment to shine. On _his_ job.

"Looks like this'll be a cool breeze," He can only watch on as V welcomes herself to the front seat, setting the tech on the dash for it to load. "I'll drive."

More and more, she's beginning to grate on him. She's cute and all, but someone so _new_ and _inexperienced_ easily bossing everyone around like this... Moreover, that he _listens_ , just to be left remembering he's older, bigger, _has bled more_.

While she's a little girl with no home and no name. An alcoholic street leech.

Yet she's getting paid the same as him.

Why does she deserve it?

This _kid_ , who steals his money and tags along on his job?

He pulls his gun on her.

"I'm gettin' sick of your bossin' around," he says. "Get the fuck out."

The shock in her eyes lasts all of a second before those cross hair pupils glare into him, taken back, yet not deterred in the slightest. Like when negotiating, the danger of immediate death does little to make her flinch.

"You're _funny_." Though, she's not laughing.

"Not _jokin'_ ," And neither is he, shoving his gun into her face, insisting she take him seriously. "Nothin' personal, compa. Just biz... Rayfield's _mine_."

V goes silent in her way again, scowling, working a wrinkle into the bridge of her nose. He feels almost - well, not _bad_ for backstabbing her, but certainly _reprimanded_.

Which is just another example of her higher-than-thou attitude. He hates that his first kneejerk is to listen to it.

"Listen. Only one of two ways to do this - friendly or _fucked up_."

Again, no reply, and no indication that skull-mama is going to budge an inch. It's a rare moment where Jackie's intimidation doesn't succeed in much, other than _pissing her off_.

... _T'ch_. Despite all his bitterness, he can't find it within himself to shoot her over it, but he _still means business!_ Instead, he goes for her legs, completely meaning to throw her out and leave her here. "Either way, the endings the same - I'm takin' the car."

It takes some wrestling, like he's dealing with a _belligerent cat_. She claws at the dash, tries to kick him when he snatches her ankles, stubborn to stay in. But, for all her strength, it's easy to _yank_ her out onto her ass; he beats her in sheer size and force, any day.

"El _cabrón_ ," she curses, suddenly having a lot to say as she brings herself back to her feet. "I get you your eddies, I make sure you're not taken advantage of - _porque, evidentemente, no puedes defenderte_ \- and you're going to dupe me?" You _asshole_ (...) because, evidentally, you can't defend yourself (...)

"No pedí tu maldita ayuda." I didn't ask for your damn help.

"¿No, eres feliz siendo un felpudo, verdad? _El perro faldero que eres_." No, you are happy being a doormat, right? _The lapdog you are_.

" _Fuck off_ ," he snaps. Really, he should just get in the car, leave her ass here, get his money. But it's a principle of pride. "Solo me quieres como _tu_ perro faldero." You just want me as _your_ lapdog.

Then V smiles, _cruel_.

"You seemed to like it, back at the club. Big _pitbull_ , waiting for your treat."

Oh, that really cuts into him, the fucking nerve...!

Jackie slams her against the car by the scruff of her jacket. But even as he has her, he doesn't know what to do with her, not doing much other than holding her there as she glares daggers in his face. _Daring him_. His madre would be disappointed, _t'sk_ -ing him for both resorting to violence and letting her get to him, but he can't find it within himself to _care_. _It's the principle_. Again, _a matter of pride_.

Through that pride, he doesn't hear the police sirens sooner.

They surround them with a screech, kicking up dirt around the two solo's, lights blaring on their scene.

" **NCPD, DROP YOUR WEAPONS!** "

He really should've just left.

Jackie's quick to remember past experiences, reassures himself that _this is fine_ , having gone through this like practice. Slowly, he frees V of his grip, turning with his hands - and gun - up. His new irritation thankfully follows suit, not getting him into more trouble for once.

"You're under arrest."

God, he _really_ should've just left.

His movements stutter, reminding himself not to move too _fast_ unless he wants to get _shot_ , as he places his weapon on the cool concrete and slides it to the other side of the room.

"Hands where I can see them, nice and slow..."

They go for V first, quickly nabbing her by her raised wrist and _throwing_ her to the ground, belly flopping against the concrete. He hears her chin make a pang that would be _sickening_ if it were still flesh, yet she doesn't so much as complain or grunt, cooperative.

As they bring him to his front too, Jackie feels some sense of guilt in his stomach, checking on her through his peripheral. He intended to leave her to walk home, no reward for her bad behavior, simply inconveniencing her. Instead, he would've abandoned her... _Here_ , alone, against all these _fucking cops_.

She catches his peeking, turning her head to confront him with the same harsh, accusing glare and wrinkle in her nose as before.

"Jackie Welles," It's both a ' _aw, fuck, it's him_ ' and a ' _yes! it's him!_ ' feeling, Jackie reinvigorated again by the fact that he's been here before, and knows of the Detective's soft spot for locals. Stint's silhouette comes into view through the blinding light, smug over the two of them. "My old pal from the hood! See you haven't grown an ounce wiser."

"Hey! _Ungh..._ " He tries to adjust the hard press into his back, get more comfortable, to no avail. "Detective Stints! Been a while, huh?"

" _Inspector_ Stints." he corrects. Reinvigorated, but no less _annoyed_ by this pompous prick.

" _Same shit._ "

As Stint picks up his weapon from the floor, smacking it against his hand, ' _admiring_ ' it's weight, Jackie watches as he takes in the face of the woman next to him. V's been silent throughout, still scowling at him, for his _backstabbing_ or _assaulting_ or maybe even for the _police_. His pit in his stomach worsens.

"Speaking of... Your mug's not familiar to me. You from around here?"

"... _Hm?_ No habla engles."

_Uh oh._

" _Uh huh._ Well, your _accent_ sounds Santo Domingo."

...Santo Domingo? That place fucking _sucks_. It's practically unlivable.

V's head shifts to look up at the Detective-Inspector then, pausing, just as curious.

He prowls closer, guessing, but in a way that insists he's _correct_. "Is that it? Left from Santo Domingo, right? Looking for a slice of happiness?"

Jackie wouldn't be able to blame her if she did. It would explain why she's homeless too; most from there are, having their homes ripped away from them. Perhaps she's been in and out of the street since she was _born_.

"Guess you didn't find it," Jackie watches as Stints closes the distance between him and the woman he's got pinned by armed forces, squatting to come face-to-face but still Lording over her, like he's got a _bone to pick_. "I've always maintained it's the same for all you _termites_ at the edges of the city. Born there, live there, _die_ there. Makin' _nothing_ of yourselves... Looks like I was _right_."

Jackie hasn't been far from that line of thinking, today. If he said it aloud, _this_ is what he'd sound like.

Something _disgusted_ stirs inside him.

Stints sure doesn't like her, and not in any _average-annoyance-for-criminals_ way neither. No, in an incriminating way. In a _looking-for-a-reason_ way.

V's ever-lasting silence makes Jackie prickle with nerves, watching her as she watches him, like she's still trying to place him. When she finally does speak, she somehow finds it within herself to _joke_. "Think you have me mistaken. It's okay. I just have one of those faces."

Stints doesn't laugh.

He really has to get them both out of there, before he gets in far worse heat just for _associating_ with this stranger.

"Come on, Stints... Give us a break, huh...? Lock us up, we'll just jerk off until trial, and then what?" The solo begins, going for convincing, playing Russian Roulette here. If he can't appeal to the Detective-Inspector's humanity, he can to his _common sense_. "We get some months - Hell, standin' room only nowadays in el bote, so... We'll probably be out early."

He turns towards V as best as he can, catches her cherry jewel eyes with a smile, trying to be reassuring; they'll live for him to make it up to her, maybe not today, but eventually.

Her gaze raises to someone approaching behind him.

"Are these the thiefs? Or ordinary street trash?"

...Fuck. How worse can it possibly get?

"Got 'em in custody, Mr. Fujioka! We'll be takin' them now."

"It's a waste of effort. I have no time to testify or play at an investigation."

"...Suggestin' we let 'em go, sir?"

"I suggest you toss them in the _sea_. Cuffed legs _broken_ , so this trash doesn't float."

Okay, he didn't want that actually answered, but _thanks anyway_. V goes back to seething at him, or maybe nobody in particular, as police rush to wield their baton's. " _Fuuuck..._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more canon-divergence! 
> 
> \- Rather than Jackie & V only knowing each other for six months, they've known each other for two years. They meet at the ages 25 and 28, respectively.
> 
> \- This version of Jackie is a little younger, a little more naïve, so he's a little more judgmental. He's aware enough to criticize corpo shit, but still kind of struggles with being disillusioned; really, he's just mad that V is being taken more seriously than him, but he's using her social standing as an attack point. More on this, later.
> 
> \- If you've read Roxanne's backstory, she's not a Heywood native.


	4. got nothing to do with 'deserve'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Police Brutality

When he wakes up, his world is limited to a bag over his head and a thudding in his skull, but he knows the movement of being in a car. He's smack-dab in the middle of someone's armored backseat, being taken to his watery death, without knowing how far he really is; could be any second now, as far as he knows.

Guess they weren't susceptible to Jackie's friendliness.

Their legs aren't broken yet, at the very least.

"Jaina?" He can feel V behind him, their wrists bound together. Jackie knows it's her; the tickle of her big hair against his neck, the dainty fists pressing against his larger ones. "Estas despierto?" Are you awake?

"Are we back to 'jaina' now?"

Yeah, that's her.

"No pensé que las policías iban a aparecer," he explains specifically in spanish, hoping the driver doesn't happen to understand. A half-apology. He's here with her, isn't he? Isn't that enough to know he didn't mean for any of this to happen? "Pero está bien, he tratado con estos tipos antes ¿Nosotras vamos a estar bien, bueno?" I didn't think police were going to show up. But it's okay, I have dealt with these guys before. We'll be fine, okay?

No reply, but he can feel the doubt in the atmosphere.

Good intentions don't mean a whole lot, especially when they weren't all that good to begin with. It's _not_ okay. Despite initial annoyances, she _did_ put herself at risk to get him more eddies - more than she ever stole - and then did so again to get him all the way to the car. V put in the work, only wanting an even split of the cut, and Jackie - what?

Judged her status, like a corpo rat?

Fucked her over, because he didn't like the air of her, how she _commands_ rather than _demands_ respect from him?

Stupid. V's younger than him, yet _he's_ the immature one.

At least, while they're waiting for the next shoe to drop, Jackie can make conversation. Work himself up to a proper apology, maybe, though he's not sure what good it'd do now. "So... Hey. Why'd you name yourself V?"

Again, no reply.

"...Are you really from Santo Domingo? What's that like, huh?"

No reply.

"...Tell me somethin'," he insists. "You're my partner and I don't know nothin' about you."

More silence, and Jackie wonders if he'll die being resorted to the silent treatment, but then V gives a resigned sigh.

"Aquí hay algo. Me molesta quién llamó a la policía," she finally offers for his consideration. "Las guardias fueron pagadas. Las cámaras estaban apagadas." Here's something. It bothers me who called the police. The guards were paid off. The cameras were off.

It's not really _about_ her, but it's enough to pique Jackie's interest, warning bells going off in his head. "¿Qué quieres decir? ¿Fue Fujioka, verdad?" What do you mean? It was Fujioka, right?

"Excepto que preguntó quiénes éramos. _Él_ no nos atrapó en el acto..." V goes on, making a kind of sense that Jackie doesn't like the smell of. "Sólo digo ¿Cuánto apuestas a que el coche se ha ido ahora?" Except he asked who we were. _He_ didn't catch us in the act... I'm just saying. How much you bet that car is gone now?

... _The bug_.

They didn't know what it _really_ did. Just assumed it unlocked the door's and hacked the key system, but then, what else does it do? Control the wheels? The break and gas, too? It was just a matter of getting some expendable bodies to place it on the dash for him, and then killing them off so he didn't have to pay.

Kirk's probably toy-car driving those wheels straight back to his place, right now. _Shit. Goddamnit_.

"Voy a sacarte de esto." I'm going to get you out of this.

She snorts, voice dropping into an entirely sarcastic octave. " _My hero._ "

"Quit your fuckin' gum-smacking! _God_ ," A third voice joins in from the driver's seat. It's then that the car rolls to a stop, and the gear nosily shifts to park. "I _hate_ when they're chatty."

When the driver opens his door, Jackie can hear the brief sound of lapping water, before it slams shut again.

His heart thrums as they're left in the suspense of silence, knowing they're at their demise. Jackie recounts the number of officers from memory, probably not quite accurate. They, typically, send a whole _patrol_ for the needs of one corpo. He knows they're outnumbered, at least - Unless some broke away, Stints figuring they had better things to do?

The solo's not sure how much elbow room he has either, to start a fight with - _possibly_ \- a group of armed, trained cops.

 _...Shit_. It's hard to assess his situation, much less make a plan.

"Siéntate quieto. Contenga la respiración." Sit still. Hold your breath.

Somehow, jaina has him covered.

Jackie hesitantly does so, tensing his muscles and grounding himself into his seat.

There's some movement in her forearms, shifting of gears - _the mantis blades_ \- before they quickly _pop_ in-and-out of their home and effectively _snap_ their cuffs right off. Jackie does good not to flinch. At the feeling of freedom, itching to jump into action, he instinctively goes to stand -

V yanks him back down by his wrists, holding them there.

" _Siéntate quieto_ ," she repeats, hissing. Damn. She really _is_ pissed, the gunslinger chastised into listening. "Finge que todavía estamos atados." _Sit still_. Pretend we're still tied up.

"¿Por qué no hiciste eso antes?" Why didn't you do that before?

"¿Y qué? ¿Matar al conductor? ¿Chocar el auto?" she says, short enough with him. "I play the long game. _Remember that._ " And what? Kill the driver? Crash the car?

That's a threat, if he ever heard one. Other than... _that_ , he really has no clue what's going on in her head. Jackie just waits. There's muffled debate outside the walls, their actual lives and covered-up murder a thing of _conflict_. Real fucking _sweet_ of Stints, but he thinks he'd prefer outright refusal.

Sight still draped in dark burlap, Jackie must rely on his senses as the backdoors swing open in a gust of sea air, the ocean fills his hearing again, the climbing of an officer bounces the truck. His fists clench, itching to swing, and V's squeeze back in response.

A one-two step of heavy boots.

Before things move like _lightning_.

His jaina all but _evaporates_ behind him, quickly followed by a _gutted_ sound, and the solo rips off the sack over his head to find that V has _double-fisted-pierced_ through the cop's chest. His eyes are still wide with _anger_ and _shock_ and _the realization that he can't be saved_ , his future wiped away in a matter of a single second.

_So much for dealing with these guys again._

She keeps him close to her chest as she scuttles on out of the truck, leaving Jackie behind as she uses the officer as a _meat shield_ against the reign of bullets. They patter against the armored car, threatening to split it open. _Shit, shit, shit - His gun. Where are his weapons?_

Surveying his sparse surroundings, Jackie's quick on his feet as he decides to step out, still hiding behind a thick door. He catches sight of the fight ensuing. Turns out, Stints isn't even among them, having called it a night. The new corpse in jaina's clutches has been eaten away by gunfire already, forcing the just-as-new solo having moved on to slicing through pistol and human alike. Unlike him, she doesn't even _try_ to find her gun, going for pure melee.

The way V fights is a conflation of practiced and chaotic. Militaristic, almost, but... The harsh, merciless flying of her cuts and kicks. The confident, earth-shaking stomp to her step. The blood-curdling _focus_ in her crosshair pupils, as her intent falls on another target. An _unhinged_ kind of poise, like the rest of her.

Whatever sick fuck taught her all _that_ , Jackie's scared of them. Or scared _for_ them. Whichever.

Spotting a gaggle of cops trying to crowd behind her while she's preoccupied, he quickly braces against the truck, and puts his might into _shoving_. Jackie pushes it into a roll, until it makes momentum enough to _hurdle_ towards the unit and _run them over_ , splashing straight into the water as the solo books it for more cover.

Shots whiz by, a couple skim him, but he effectively makes it to the next truck over and _rips_ one of its backdoor's off. He scans over its contents once, twice, in his adrenaline. No guns, but -

His machete is propped up against the side, someone probably taking it home as a trophy.

_...That'll work._

The solo takes V's lead in bringing a knife to a gun fight, snapping the weapon up into his fist and jumping into action. A man as big as him, miraculously, gets the advantage of surprise over an officer wrestling with his partner; a thick _chop_ to the middle of their skull, going limp while still stuck to the blade. In effort to shake them off, he _swings_ the body into their coworker, smacking both to the ground for Jackie to crush under his heavy heel.

The two share a split-second look, acknowledging the truce.

And it's an _exhausting_ battle. Jackie's grown spoiled for the easy pull of a trigger, for the automatic barraging of damage that is rifles. To take on a small platoon with nothing but the constant, heavy swing of his blade and pure muscle, narrowly avoiding long-range gunfire, ignoring whatever he pulls in his efforts - he's panting, sweaty, sore, sea air and blood sticking to his skin unpleasantly. V is no worse for wear, cool air heaving through her skull mouth, like a huffing dragon.

It makes mere minutes last _long_.

Until it suddenly isn't, when Jackie whips around at some point, expecting another to jump.

But it's still. Quiet. Only the glint of wet blood on his machete left of the police unit.

 _"¡...A huevo!"_ Jackie whoops with pumping arms, still catching his breath. " _Shiiit_ , can you believe how close that was?! Sons of bitches really - thought..."

He trails off as he catches sight of her figure in the dark. Over her shoulder, the angry cherry glint of V's crosshair pupils stare him down, mantis blades still hanging ready at her sides. They glint too, pattering thickly against the metal dock underneath them.

If looks could kill, except she has _so much more_.

Jackie finds himself in a sudden standoff, refusing to disarm himself even as he holds his hands up, like he's trying to steady a hungry bigcat. "...You don't wanna fight me, jaina. I just saved your ass, right?"

His heart jumps as she _whips around and marches towards him_ -

But, it's lucky that Jackie doesn't swing at her, because he catches sight of her blades folding back home in favor of _shoving him_. Hard enough that the solo actually stumbles back, V flexing their matched strength yet again. "¡Oye, qué carajo!" Hey, what the fuck!

" _YOU -_ " She punctuates with a solid punch to his arm that leaves Jackie dropping his blade to cradle it, along with a low growl to her voice that makes him feel _in deep trouble_. " - Are the one who _GOT_ me here, so miss me with your _savior bullshit_. All you had to do was get in the car with me, _but no_ \- Now I'm here, coming back from having my ass _brutalized by the police!"_

He can't do much other than stand there, stunned, knowing it's true. Jackie may not have been the one to call the police or anything, but he put a gun to her head and left her all the same. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't have been singled out on the way, either by the predatory guards or Kirk himself. He had no way of knowing if she'd hold her own, and he didn't _care_. All in the name of profit.

He readily put her up to be some lamb to the slaughter.

Jackie would've been just another dead Welles boy, if someone did the same to him.

"'Saved me'..." she scoffs, _t’sking_. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

A good lie doesn't come to him, much less a justification, so instead he goes for the honor of honesty. "...I-I don't fuckin' know! You ain't got any right acting the way you do. You're just this damn _kid_ who blows money on booze, I didn't think... you... Y'know, _deserved it_..."

It sounded better in his head.

Her anger doesn't really cool, so much as it boils into a steaming _seethe_ , because this killer woman looks at him like she's trying to will his skin to melt off.

" _You_ don't get to decide what I _deserve_ ," she grits through her teeth, sinister-low, chilling him in a contradicting sensation. "What, you think you're the ' _good_ ' poor man, who's suffered more than the next sucker?"

" _No_."

" _No._ There is _always_ some sad shit out there, that deserves it more than either of us _, but we don't care_. It's not about that. Got nothing to do with 'deserves'," she hisses as she stomps right past him, away from the scene, away from him. "It's about **_wanting_** it bad enough. That's what you hate about me. That I _want_ this, and _know_ it, and _won't_ _fucking apologize_."

Jackie, as he watches her shrinking figure, realizes he's not immune to this system.

He was often told a lie that he has to pull himself up by his bootstraps, wrack up his merit points, suffer and suffer and suffer, in some hopeless hope that God was keeping track and would _eventually_ garner him good karma. Upwards mobility. Being a solo was meant to subtract that variable and add more control. If no one would give him value, would make him more than he is, then _he_ would.

But it's ingrained right to his bones, isn't it? What he _has_ is his worth, and when he has more - no matter how little that 'more' is - it makes him _worthier_. It makes him _special_.

And we all like to think we're so special, don't we?

"V, espera," Jackie calls, jogging to catch up. V doesn't falter her step for so much of a second, pushing forward in long strides that he has to keep up with. "¡Yo dije espera! Where you even planning to go, huh? Your bartender's favor is all used up, ain't it?" V, wait, (...) I said wait!

She's back to having nothing to say to him.

"It's the middle of the night. I'm not about to just let you sleep out on the _sidewalk!_ "

" _Tch!_ 'Let me'," he hears her grumble under her breath, still not at all addressing him.

"I got a pull-out couch!"

He nearly runs into her when she stops dead in her tracks.

V turns to look at him with a suspicious squint to her pretty eyes, and it scrapes cruelly at his heart to know he deserves it.

"I got a pull-out couch," he repeats, sighing, the drying blood splattered on him starting to feel uncomfortable. The mention of _home_ and _bed_ inspires exhaustion. "Sleep over my place, just for the night. Get some actual rest. Let me do right by you _for once_ , and then you never have to see me again."

It takes another moment of distrust. Looking him up and down. Checking their surroundings for a prank.

But she nods.

She nods, and follows him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More canon divergence!  
> \- Whack as hell that Jackie dealt with this whole issue OFF-SCREEN, and we even had a "maybe Stints is a good cop" moment. GET OUTTA HERE.
> 
> \- Also made a bigger deal out of Kirk, rather than everyone but V & Pepe just knowing he's a fraud.


	5. seductive laughter

"Mamá," he calls quietly, knocking on her bedroom door, kind of hoping against hope that she won't hear him anyway. It's late, and they're both a mess, and he doesn't really need to be worrying her any further - but, uh... She's his _madre_ , so he can't go by without at least telling her who's in her house. " _Mamá_."

Unfortunately, she answers, a robe thrown on, squinting tiredly up at him.

"¡...Dios Mío!" His madre calls when her poor, tired brain catches up with his sorry sight, hands fretting over his sore face. "¡¿Qué le pasó?!" What happened to you?!

"Era solo - ese tipo _Stints_ , mamá. Se ve peor de lo que es," Jackie tries to reassure, unable to hug her due to all the gunk and blood. "¿No te preocupes por eso, de acuerdo? Todos estamos bien ahora." It was just - that _Stints_ guy, mom. It looks worse than it is. Don't worry about it, alright? We are all fine now.

"'Todos'?" 'We'? (Everybody)

Then her eyes land somewhere behind him, no doubt on V.

Nearly hiding behind her door, his mother yelps out at the sight of his new friend's skull-face. He _told_ her; as purely cosmetic as it is, that kind of bling is only seen on major metalhead fuckers. " _¡¿Quien es este?!_ Por qué la dejarías entrar aquí - " _Who is this?!_ Why would you let her in here -

He tries to shush her, trying _not_ to offend his guest any further, thanks. Or, at least, trying to temper her rising fit. "La metí en problemas y no tiene otro lugar adonde ir. Sólo quiero hacerte saber - " I got her in trouble and she don't have anywhere else to go. I just wanted to let you know -

"¿Problema? Wh - _Jaquito Welles, tienes problemas con la policía?!_ " But she meets her peak anyway, swatting the back of his hand in punishment... Before seemingly deflating, exhaustion coming over her as those same small hands rub at her eyes. _Oh no_. "...Es tan _tarde_ ahora ¿Por qué me _haces_ esto, mijo? ¿Tengo que preguntarme a todas horas si voy a perderte por - la policía o la violencia de las pandillas o ...?" Trouble? Wh - _Jackie Welles, do you have problems with the police?!_ It's so _late_ now. Why do you _do_ this to me, son? Do I have to wonder all the time if I'm going to lose you to - to the police or gang violence or...?

Of all the things Jackie doesn't need tonight, it's making his sick-with-grief mother cry again. He just can't seem to stop upsetting the women around him.

"Te lo digo, mamá. No tienes nada de qué preocuparte. Por favor..." I'm telling you, mom. You have nothing to worry about. Please...

When he holds her shoulders, trying to squeeze the stress away as best as he can, his mother acknowledges his efforts with only sad dark eyes - and, _shit_ , if it doesn't hurt. He's just not sure what she's expecting of him; Jackie's a grown man, who has to pay the bills, but moreover he wants to be anything but stagnant... What's he to do, other than go out and get into the shit he does?

Her sad eyes don't last long, though, growing stern when they drift to jaina. "That’s right, don't ever come back here again! Or else!"

Jackie whips around - V's leaving.

"'Ey! Wait, don't run off just like that - " He leaves his madre back to chase after her, beseeching, clasping at a wrist when he's within reaching distance.

It stops V, but only to _snatch_ herself back from his grasp, throwing the sharpest accusatory glare he's ever received. She has no qualms reminding him there's _no_ trust between them, even as she's already reduced him back to the silent treatment. Jackie holds his own fist to himself, like he's just been burned.

But when she glances at his mother, she looks a little shocked, a little _conflicted_. It's not unusual for his culture to have the kids stay with the parents until they're married off, but - considering her own background - maybe that's not what's so surprising.

"...You shouldn't bring _strangers_ into your mother’s house," she hisses low at him, the first words she's graced him with in a while. No, it's that he has a mom to live with _at all_. "It's unsafe for her."

"Is that a _threat?_ "

" _Nooo_ , mamá, ¡no te está amenazando! Jesus Christ," Jackie groans, hands rubbing down his face, feeling his own exhaustion taking him. "Listen. Wasn't long ago she let me take in a roommate. Practically _adopted_ her, yeah? She just moved out, so the bed's open. If you lemme talk to her..." _Nooo_ , mom, she isn't threatening you!

V only continues glaring.

"Come on, you expect me to believe you'd rather sleep on the street?"

Her stare _hardens_. Alright, so maybe he shouldn't be using her situation to twist her arm... Jackie can see his mamá in the corner of his peripheral, peeking from behind her bedroom door, still watching.

Whatever she sees, she must take pity.

"...Arriba, hay una ducha. Segunda puerta." ...Upstairs, there's a shower. Second door.

But his guest stutters as she addresses his mom, not nearly having the same amount of ire as she does for him. "Siento haberme impuesto. Me voy ahora - " I'm sorry for having imposed. I'm leaving now -

"Estás _sangrando_ en mis bonitos suelos. Ve a darte una ducha, _ahora mismo_." You're _bleeding_ on my nice floors. Go take a shower, _right now._

That's his blood, alright. Mamá Welles may not be about the solo life, but she could snap _any_ of them into proper shape, if she wanted. Jackie remembers very distinctly when she came to collect him, right in Valentino territory, yet those same grizzled killers easily _waded_ out of her way at the sight of her stern step.

V looks at her with that same stun, not having a lot of room to argue.

_"¡Vamos!"_

She can only nod her head in thanks, quickly moving for the stairs. Jackie clasps his hands in her lead, mouthing his gratitude to his mother, before following to show his guest the way. "You can borrow some clean clothes, if you want. First door - "

" _Ah-ah!_ " But his madre calls as soon as his foot hits the first step, pointing to the pullout in the living room. " _Siéntese_." _Sit._

Aw, _fuck._

"Uh, closets right across the bedroom," he finalizes with V, though not sure if she really registers it, still ignoring him as she climbs the stairs without so much a glance his way. _Yeesh._

Thankfully, as V takes her shower, his mama isn't out to lecture him but to bring out a medkit and patch up his flesh wounds. However, as minor as it is in comparison to her usual chewing out, she does good to remind him that she can do both.

"¿Qué son estas personas para ustedes, _extraviados?_ Primero Vera, ahora quienquiera que sea..." What are these people to you, _strays?_ First Vera, now whoever this is...

"Su nombre es V." Her name is V.

" _Obviamente_ no lo es ¿No sabes su verdadero nombre?" _Obviously_ it is not. Don't you know her real name?

"Si así es como quiere que la llamen, entonces es su nombre," he dumbly argues, not having a good reason. Who's to say it _isn't_ her real name? And, even if it isn't, it doesn't change the fact that he's screwed her. "Además, pensé que Vera te gustaba." If that's what she wants to be called, then it's her name. Besides, I thought you liked Vera.

"Vera era una chica dulce. Se comió todas las migajas de su plato y se limpió después," Yeah, after herself and the _entire fucking house_ , to an absolute _deranged_ degree. He's fond of Vera like she were his own familia, but it didn't stop her from being a _nightmare_ of a housemate; she'd spend all hours of the night just scrubbing away at shit in their shared room. "Pero ella, _no me gusta_ ¿Qué podría hacer que alguien se quite la cara?" Vera was a sweet girl. Ate all the crumbs on her plate and cleaned herself up afterward. But her, _I don't like_. What could make someone remove their face?

That's the thing, isn't it? Jackie's been realizing all night that, what she's been through, what she's done, it really isn't any of his _fucking business_. He's stuck his nose too far in, thought he had some kind of authority over who she is and what she gets, and now V's _pissed_ at him and he can distinctly feel it.

He's usually not one to care. It's like V said. The solo knows that, if any of these other pendejo's had their way, they wouldn't hesitate to shoot Jackie in the head to get what they want out of life. It's just how these things turn out. _Snoozin' and losin'._ Nobody gets anything for going the easy, deserving, _nice_ guy way.

...It doesn't mean he has to make it harder either, though. He was once new too. Maybe it's the pretty face, but he just _really_ has to work himself back into her good graces. Just has to.

"...Si se trata de impresionar a alguien, esta es la forma más tonta que puede hacer." ...If it's about impressing someone, this is the dumbest way to go.

Jackie balks, " _¿Eh?_ "

"Vi cómo trataste de seguirla a la ducha. Te recordaré que no tienes permitido traer tus ' _conquistas'_ aquí." I saw how you tried to follow her into the shower. I will remind you that you are not allowed to bring your ' _conquests'_ here.

 _Fucking shoot him. Jackie wants a gun._ "Dios _mío_ , mamá."

"¡Ve a un hotel o algo! ¡No me importa! Pero no voy a dejar que mi hijo folle mientras estoy aquí." Go to a hotel or something! I do not care! But I'm not going to let my son fuck while I'm right here.

 _"¡MAMÁ!"_ Listen, the solo may not be one to blush, but if there's anyone that can embarrass him it's his own mother. _Shit._ "No es así. _De verdad_." It's not like that. _For real_.

No, between all their bad blood, that ship has long sailed. He's already since decided.

"Buena," she nods, suspicions satisfied, before closing up the medkit and promptly shoving it into his own hands. "Quieres traer perros callejeros, son tu responsabilidad. Ve a cuidarla. Discúlpate antes de que te apuñale." Good. You want to bring in strays, they're your responsibility. Go take care of her. Apologize before she stabs you.

"Sure..."

As his legs seem to feel like lead as he trudges up the stairs, Jackie's beginning to be ready for his own shower and night-in, feeling sore himself. He sure hopes V isn't a morning person, because the solo is looking forward to a _looong_ sleeping in. 'Til _noon_ , even. Just as he's raising a knuckle to tap the door, V exits his bathroom.

His breath catches at the sight.

V, wrapping her still-wet hair up in a silk scarf, with _his_ shirt draped over the hill's and valley's of her body.

Like a girlfriend.

He imagines what it'd be like to run his hand under, hike the fabric up, discover if she's wearing any underwear underneath -

"What?"

 _Shit._ He really just convinced his mom - and _himself_ \- that he wasn't attracted to her anymore, too.

"What? _Nothing_ ," he croaks, pointedly looking her in the eye, and it's there that Jackie _winces_. Her wounds haven't washed off with the rest of the battle, revealing the split-open skin of her cheekbone and brow, forming into a kiss of bruise. It's clearly where a baton cracked across her face; a hair away, and they would've _blinded_ her. _Jesus_.

He caused that. Not _directly_ , but still. She could've been _killed_ tonight, thanks to him.

Jackie coughs, holding up the medkit in offering. "Sit on down, yeah?"

She doesn't soften any to his gentler tone, glare still as sharp, harsh, and untrusting in the dim light of the room, but she turns and plops herself up on his bathroom counter regardless. When she settles and he follows her in, she doesn't meet his eye.

Upon closer look, there's a sizeable scrape in the center of her matte-black chin, from when she was thrown into the concrete. Moreover, the bruise is _swelling_ too. Thankfully, there's no bullet holes, and nothing he sees needs stitches. Jackie and his lack of medical expertise can handle that, shuffling for a cotton ball and disinfectant. "This might sting, yeah?"

V only does him the kindness of letting him cup her face, but not much else as she still won't look him in the eye, and sure enough the press of the cotton ball does make her hiss and flinch like a startled cat. " _\- Ss!_ "

" _Shh_ , esta bien," he murmurs, though it doesn't stop her from looking like he yanked her tail. It does him dirty to have this beat-up woman on his beat-up counter, looking smaller than she really is in his hands... "Lo siento. Supongo que no tengo el toque más suave." Sorry. I guess I don't have the softest touch.

Yet again, no reply. Jackie resented her seemingly mocking laugh before, but right now, he'd give anything to so much as get a smile out of her.

"...Deberías ver el otro chico. Right, jaina?" ...You should see the other guy.

She snorts, but it's noncommittal. No, V will give him no charity. The solo has to apologize proper if he wants her to forgive him proper.

"...I'm jealous."

So he finally confesses, and those bright cherry eyes finally meet his.

"Soloing's a competitive, _desperate_ job. I've been at it since - I dunno, early twenties? So, a _long_ time now. Don't think I need to tell you I haven't gotten as far as I like," Jackie continues on as he moves to salve, calloused thumb dabbing over the open wounds; to cool over the swelling. Saying it aloud is a real kick to his dignity, to his humility, but it's _honest_. "...But I wanna be more. I have to be."

This city gives him that opportunity in the first place, and for that, he loves it. No confines of false virtue. Gritty and dirty and _free_.

At the same time, it sure knows how to trip him over and kick him when he's down. Jackie can't play the game and then expect better of it.

"Then you pop in outta fuck-nowhere, actin' fresh, askin' for it... And you just _get it_ ," he finalizes. V, with her mantis blades and cheeky manipulations and - general _way_ about her. "Don't even gotta explain yourself, like I do. You're a natural, and I guess that bruised my ego."

"Certainly doesn't feel like I 'got' much of anything," _Well, true_ , but not his point. Jackie is granted a couple of words, at least. "Are we back on this ' _deserving it_ ' thing? You don't figure I know what it's like to be desperate?"

"What I'm sayin' is that _I'm sorry_ , alright?"

The gaze he got to meet his finally, _finally_ , softens too.

"You command that kinda respect. I'm jealous and tried to screw you for it. Ruin your chances before you even had 'em. So I'm sorry."

There's not a lot he's been able to gather from V, but he's figured out by now that she's a careful thinker, his jaina looking between his eyes in quiet consideration for a moment. It keeps Jackie in suspense, but he knows to respect it well enough. He may have gone too far already, and she may choose not to forgive him, and he'll have to accept that too.

Her tone is harsh when she does reply, brow furrowing again. "I thought the whole point of being a solo was that, if you want something, you take it."

Jackie can't help the scoff or the palm that rubs over his face, just at the sheer audacity. There are times that V's greenery really shows, and others where it _doesn't at all_. No in-between for this lady. "See, _this_ is what I'm talking about. Didn't you just turn drinkin' age or something?"

"I'm just saying. Don't justify yourself," she says, "Just _be_ it."

...He stares a bit. What, that's the secret?

"Where do you get all this?"

"I told you already. I know what it's like to be desperate."

Jackie feels his own eyebrows raise high. There's a story there.

"I'm not telling you," But V seems to read his mind, blowing him off already, "Where did your roommate sleep?"

"Uh, well, we shared the bed, but..."

She gives him a deadpan look.

" - _I wasn’t lyin’ about the pullout!_ It’s downstairs."

“Next to your mom’s room?” she scoffs, “Bet she’ll suffocate me with her own pillow.”

 _Nooo_ , come on. His madre isn’t the type to kill unless she _has_ to.

...Then again, what she feels she ‘has’ to do might blur today; she doesn’t like V, much less did she invite her into their home.

But V gives a sly kind of look out the corner of her eye. The solo’s only known her so long, but he’s beginning to understand the difference between her _smiling_ and her _smirking_.

"I'm just wondering if _this_ was the 'cool bed' you were going to show me."

Her and his mother, he swears to _God_ \- " _No!_ Come on, I ain't _that_ stupid."

"Oh yeah? Where _were_ you going to take me, then? A _looove_ hotel?"

_Maybe._

"...I'd rather not go into detail about how I was gonna screw you while my ma is in earshot, alright?"

Cherry eyes crinkle. She laughs, soft and warm. V certainly eases back into teasing him, doesn't she?

And Jackie is so relieved at the thought, he kind of wants to hug her, trying and failing not to break into his own smile.

Even though she scoffs at the sight, lightly pushing him aside so she can slide off the counter. He ignores the temporary hike of his shirt up her hips, and the sway of them as she leaves, closing the door behind her to leave him to the privacy of his own much-needed shower.

...Wait, does she forgive him? Jackie was so distracted, he's realizing he didn't actually make sure.

* * *

When he's done with his own shower, he finds her at the sink and mirror in _his_ room, one of his rosaries spread out in her hands.

 _Jackie doesn't ask._ Not a question for today, at least. The Valentinos, his culture, may be big on religion but... The solo isn't ignorant. It's hard to be in Night City, look at corruption at it's worse, feel the fear and unrest it distills, and have any room for faith. As steadfast as he is in his beliefs, even _he_ knows the feeling of praying and wondering if God has taken a vacation. It's why the two of them do this; take their fates into their own hands.

Instead, he takes to his bed, hands propped behind his head. "...So, uh, hey. Do you forgive me or what?"

Despite the faraway look she has, V sets his rosary down with care - which he appreciates - before making her own way to the bed. He guesses she's sleeping with him after all, Jackie making room. "Is it _that_ important to you that I do?"

"Awww, what do I gotta do? ¿Chocolate? _¿Flores?_ " he offers. Isn't it enough that he's letting her into his house, treating her cuts, giving her his bed, already? _Come on_. "'Cause I'll get you flores. I mean, they'll be fuckin' _fake_ , but I'll get them if it'll stop the cold shoulder."

Her deep chuckle reaches his ears, sounding more seductive than it ought to. "I don't much care for flowers."

"So, what _do_ you want?"

Then she's touching him.

His living space is small, with his bed all but pressed against the wall. It's not hard for jaina to crawl over her space and into his, coming to loom over him and familiarly prop her arms against his chest.

For a man that's being given the cold-shoulder, he feels incredible _warmth_ from V.

The solo holds his breath as she regards him with smiling eyes, kicking her feet behind her, like a playful cat that's just caught her mouse. Jackie's suddenly not opposed to prostituting himself for her, in a sense; he wants V to say he'll be paid in kindness and forgiveness, if only he thoroughly pleases her, his hands itching to feel up her soft curves -

"Think I might just keep you hanging," she jokes instead. "You're cuter when you're _indebted_."

Jackie grabs her alright, but only to easily toss her back onto her side. The party girl openly laughs as she bounces on the bed's springs, confirming that she's making fun of him. _Tease._

"Hmmm... Pepe is still gonna get his legs chopped off," she eventually 'ponders' aloud, coy, but Jackie knows that that's for him to hear. "And I'd like to get our payment. Wouldn't you?"

"...Yeah, and what? Speak your mind, already."

"In your experience, how hard do you think it is to kill a fixer?"

...V just asked his advice, he realizes. Recognized his experience.

After shaking off the balk of that, Jackie pauses, thinking genuinely on it. Between the two of them, even with bodyguards - _Sure_ , it'd be _physically_ possible to take down Kirk, but... "Kirk's small-time, but _still._ Fixer's got their nose in all types of shit. Contact lists, smuggling - even _politics_. Some might see it as a threat on their business. We'd be neck-deep."

In return, she hums in thought, no doubt plotting.

The idea of killing Kirk isn't one he's _opposed_ to, but it doesn't align with their other plans very well. They'd have to be in hiding forever, if they really don't want to get caught, and that conflicts with making it big. Sometimes people don't get the privilege of revenge, or even closure, on those that screw them - it's just _getting screwed_ , and they have to take it like a bottom bitch.

"We could just scare him."

He laughs at the audacity of this little fish with big ideas. If fixers were easily frightened off, everyone would've done it by now. "Sure. Yeah. With what army?"

But V grins, like she knows something he doesn't. "If you were a rich man, would _you_ be setting up shop in bar booths, thinking up schemes to avoid paying your enforcers?"

...Jackie's smile drops, it not being funny anymore. Again, it's blasphemous - Kirk, while a little shark in comparison, has been climbing up as a major player for a while now - but his guest has a point. On one hand, the wealthy love to splurge gross amounts of money on stupid shit, while concisely hoarding it from just about anyone who needs it. They'd rather literally _eat_ and _shit back out_ edible gold, just to say they can, than give an ounce of it to the hungry. Maybe, considering Kirk, it's just typical rich-guy nature.

On the other, he's never had an employer cheat him without an excuse to back it up. Not following directions to the impossible T. Worries of getting linked back to the crime. Pay gets deducted like he's being graded on homework. Everything happens for a reason, or at least it gives the illusion that it does.

Kirk tried to punk him out before Jackie even knew the assignment.

"You think he's a hack?"

"I _guarantee_ he's a hack," V rolls, reaching for the light and snapping it off with finality. In the pitch black, the sharp red of her eye’s cuts through the dark, and into him. The word 'guarantee' is doing a lot of legwork here, but the sheer _confidence_ makes him want to believe it. " _That's_ what I want from you. Help me, help you, get paid like we were meant to."

...Jackie doesn't remember being quite as challenging when he was starting out. It's where they differ in goals. To Jackie, fixer's, corpo's - they're potential bosses. Allegiances that Jackie wants to get in on. To be in the room where it happens.

A friend in a high place.

" _Auugh_... Tienes algunas bolas." You have some balls.

He sees the glow of her eyes squint, smiling. "But you'll do it, right?"

But for V, they're _competition_.

"Yeah," he says. "Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackie's former roommate - later his sister - is @solonet's V, Vera! You should follow her on Tumblr! She'll be alluded to quite a bit.


	6. all swagger, no substance

Jackie didn't know how to appreciate it before, but he's got to admit... Watching V work is a little bit of a sight to behold.

“I think it’s important to learn from your mistakes, don't you?” she says conversationally, perched onto the backrest of the booth, literally _above_ the wannabe-fixer that’s trying _desperately_ not to snivel. Behind his sunglasses and sweat, he stares blankly out at Jackie, who's knuckles have since been busted and bloodied with the looks-tougher-than-he-is bodyguard. Really, the former Valentino thought this would be _harder._ "For example; I learned there's such a thing as being _all_ swagger..."

V plucks Kirk's sunglasses right off his goofy ears, revealing his _embarrassed as hell_ scowl.

"...And _no_ substance."

Then, promptly breaks the glasses in half, throwing the pieces behind her a theatrical shrug.

"Your turn," she presses, reaching under his chin and very gingerly - almost lovingly - tipping it to meet the scrutiny of her sharp, cherry red's. Kirk's brave face falters just the slightest, a shudder to his shoulders that's nearly invisible to the naked eye. _Nearly,_ but not quite. "What was _your_ mistake?"

It's cruel in a way that's _way_ too invigorating.

And Jackie's kind of into it. Maybe there's some kind of irony from hating one fake to another - but V just _has_ it. Looking at her now, she's so confident because she _wants_ this, and strangles it in her hands to call it _hers_. As far as the solo is concerned, V is _already_ a friend in a high place, Night City just doesn't know it yet.

Which gives Jackie first dibs to the benefits, like scaring the snot out of his boss.

"...I backstabbed you, so I didn't have to compensate for your time."

" _And?_ "

"...I-I did it by _snitching_ to the cops..."

"And did you learn from your mistakes _, Kirk?_ "

His voice, usually so cocky, wavers. " _Yes_."

V's eyes crinkle in a sweet cherry approval, but it's a sinister, _false_ comfort. "I don't _believe_ you. Do you believe him, Jack?"

The larger solo makes a show of cracking his split knuckles, ignoring and relishing in the sharp pain all at once. "Can't say I do, V."

"I think we need a little _convincing_ ," Her steely fingernails scratch harshly against his stubble. "And eddies are much better at talking than you."

" _Fine._ I'll pay you what I owe, just - I-I get the message, alright - ?"

"You'll pay us double," V insists, barely letting him finish, snatching control of the conversation where she can. "30,000. _You know_ , for emotional damages."

As Kirk grits his teeth, Jackie can tell he's _really_ fraying at the seams, wanting his bullies to leave already. The solo kind of wonders if he'll double down, just have a full-on meltdown, reduced to a temper tantrum because of couple of 'nobodies' picked on him. Maybe, in a sadistic kind of way, Jackie wants to see that - Kirk's a _skinny little slimeball_ that tried to stiff him, after all. But the wannabe fixer ends up pressing against his temple anyhow, and a file is sent to the both of them.

Jack opens it immediately, checking for propriety.

At the sight of the 30,000 eddies, he can't hold his victorious grin down.

V is a little bit more subtle in her celebration, the hand that was vice-gripping Kirk's chin patting his cheek familiarly now, if a little hard. Like an Italian mobster from the movies. "Pleasure doing business with you, Kirk. _Really._ "

They both walk away, unharmed, not feeling the least bit guilty.

An easy win dragged out of a losing situation.

Even walking down the street, Jackie's still internally staring at his 30k eddies. He can't believe that fucking _worked_. The both of them just scared a fixer straight. A _small-fry_ of one, but - A fixer, nonetheless. It wasn't even that _hard_.

"My madre is gonna be _psyched._ Not only am I coverin' her bills, I'm gettin' her some _good_ food. No substitute crap tonight, baby!"

"Still can't believe you got a madre."

"Uh, yeah. _Everyone's_ got a mamá. 'Least biologically," Jackie knows what she means, but he teases anyway. "Or do I gotta teach los pájaros y las abejas too? 'Cause, I mean... _I could_ , if you really wanted." (...) the birds and the bees (...)

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, half-joking, and V's rejection is only sweeter as she rolls her eyes with a smile. "I meant your madre is _alive_ , smart guy."

Jackie's grin simmers fond. His mamá squawks and frets a whole lot, but... he's got the forthright to appreciate the privileges he has. A lot of Night City occupants are orphaned, or _worse_. He knows that worse well, and while the city has already claimed most of his family, Jackie's at least got a loving mamá. And he loves her back, for all her cooing and concern.

That could've been different. He only has her now by some stroke of luck.

"Yeah. She's all I got left now, so I've been takin' care of her - gonna give her a _good life_ , someday. Gotta pay my dues to her for puttin' up with me, y'know?"

V hums in reply, and the solo doesn't know if it's disinterest or what, but she's got a far-away look in her crosshair pupils. Like she's aiming for something that's not quite there.

"...What about you? You got somebody to take care of?"

"Yeah - _me_ ," But she snorts. "Come on, Jack. This is the _concrete jungle_. I don't care about anyone."

He can't tell if she's playing tough or if she genuinely believes that; neither option is really that far-fetched. It's Jackie's turn to roll his eyes, not knowing why he bothers. " _Fiiine_ , keep your secrets."

"This is my turn," she says, suddenly breaking from him. Uh - Did he offend? "Later."

"Wh - _'Later'?_ Where you goin'?"

"I got another job lined-up."

"What, without me?"

She chuckles low, just the way Jack - with his bubbling excitement about their win - quite _likes_. "I don't live to get you paid. You're a big boy."

He grins toothily at the opportunity for a line. "Oh, you don't know the _half_ of it, jaina."

"Yeah? Only a half?" she teases instead, not taking the bait, and somehow it only eggs Jackie on. In the heat of his resentment towards her, the insults being coupled with hooded eyes and low laughter only added insult to injury, but now...

He doesn't know. There's a kind of _sexiness_ to it. Maybe he _is_ a pitbull waiting for his treat, but, _hey_ \- who doesn't like a treat? Especially when it’s voice could make a Valentino _melt_.

"Heartbreaker," he accuses affectionately.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Jack-Baby. _I don't care about anyone_ ," She flutters her lashes, but inevitably drops the coy act to point her chin at his knuckles. "Besides, you got a date with your cute front desk girl."

Ah, _Misty_. They've known of each other since they were kids, but never truly talked. When they went in for repairs on the damage done last night, turns out she worked there and he couldn't resist chatting her up. She blushed and giggled at everything he said, complimented his accent, pretended to know how to read palms so she could hold his hand.

She _is_ cute. A real sweetheart. If Jackie could be tied down, his mom would probably love her.

" _Yeeeah_ , alright," he submits, looking at his busted knuckles, happy for an excuse to see her again. "After you're done, you're comin' back to the apartment, right?"

"Not if you're having company."

He opens his mouth - before closing it, considering. "...Eh, _tal vez_ , but, uh - You know what I mean when I ask, yeah?" (...) _maybe,_ (...)

An unspoken offer. _No feelings shit_ , but she's not allowed to be his partner _and_ homeless. V can stop couch-surfing with strangers _and gravel_ , and come live with him, at least until she gets on her feet. Not dissimilar to his Nomad friend, Vera.

Cherry eyes smile, catching his intent. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

* * *

It was good thinking that she stole a car, because the drive is long enough for day to bleed into night. The district truly is kept separate from the entirety of the city, not in the sense that it's not easily accessible, but that it's _just_ far enough to keep the _'garbage'_ away from the rest of the populace.

When she has to walk the rest of the way, she does good to not look small or weak, not falter when she moves, and not linger too long. It helps that the homeless and drug-addled seem to shrink around her, seeing her better gear and bad-omen of a face.

Then, she's in front of it, taking it in for the umpteenth time.

Her childhood home, still standing.

Whatever plans the corp had for this place, it must've been abandoned with the rest of the architecture here. Santo Domingo, the place to go to be unwanted.

Boy, does Roxanne feel _that_.

She slings the duffle bag of eddies, now exchanged for old-school paper money, across her torso to begin her climb. Whoever's work it is, the door's been modified to be locked like it's vacuum-sealed, with a camera attached to boot. Thus, Roxy's been reduced to climbing the wooden exterior to the second-story window, so she can leave her earnings.

She _would_ knock the door, reveal herself as the long-lost daughter and sister they gave away, but... Roxanne doesn't know. She's not ready, especially in the face of a _second_ rejection. It's easier this way.

The window is always unlocked, anyhow, so. Whoever they think she is, there's an unspoken agreement. They can think of her as the _Santa Claus of Eddies_ , for all she cares; it's probably better for them than the truth.

Ignoring the splinters in her hands, avoiding making the window creak, squeezing herself _and_ the duffle bag through the opening, she's halfway inside. It's always so quiet. Strangely empty, despite knowing that just on the other side of the closed doors, lie her sleeping siblings...

It'd be easy to sneak a peek. See how their rooms are different, how they've grown, _if_ _they're all still alive_ , after all these years.

But the newly appointed solo is stubborn not to loiter. Roxanne is a _professional_ now -

A cock of machinery.

The reason the window was unlocked was not to welcome her, but to _catch_ her.

A figure steps into the low light of the moon, pointing its fist straight at her, shadows tracing out a canon installed into the forearm. Despite the new equipment, she recognizes him immediately.

Augustin.

 _Jesus_ , he's gotten so tall, and yet his face is still so young. His hair has grown with him, braided into cornrows. The freckly-babyface she once knew has matured into something akin to her father. But, unmistakably, it's him.

Her little brother, right in front of her, in the silence of the night.

"I don't know _who_ you are, or why you've been sneakin' eddies into my house, but I'm giving you _one_ chance to back on out that window. Never return. Right now," he warns in English, dark, kind eyes glaring right through her. "You'd be smart to take it."

But his threat tells her all she needs about his willingness to kill. If he really meant it, he wouldn't be hesitating, he wouldn't risk her coming back again, he wouldn't be offering her freedom of consequence. Augustin's heart is too kind for violence; that hasn't changed.

Which is why her familia needs her so badly.

Roxanne drops the duffle bag with a soft thud, raising a hand in casual surrender, but doesn't do as he asks.

"I _mean it_. You think I've survived this long, in this neighborhood, out of dumb luck?" he begins threatening when she's silent, but the whisper in his venom gives away that others are in the house. More of her siblings have survived, maybe? "Go back to where you came from and _stay_ there, or - _Don't move!_ "

He jerks his arm forward as she reaches into her coat.

Still, he hesitates. Still, with the risk of her clasping her gun, he hopes he doesn't have to be the one to take the shot. Still, something in him trusts just enough, to watch and wait.

Roxanne, slowly, pulls out her old face, now synthesized. She watches, unblinkingly, as August's brows furrow in vague recognition.

She can't get over the fact that she's looking him in the eyes right now, after all this time.

Will he still love her? The bunch of posers she was with as a kid was one thing, but now that blood is on her hands? Now that her soul is ugly?

Will he look at her, and still see his sister, as she still sees her brother?

He still doesn't shoot when she raises it to its proper place.

It clicks into place and, as she steps down from the windowsill, Roxanne allows her brother to know her again.

There's no joy on his face when he falters.

Instead, he looks _gutted_ , like she couldn't have killed him in a way more painful. His canon dies with a whirr, arm going as limp as his jaw.

"Hey, August."

It's then that he inhales, shuddering, like he could burst into tears any moment. It's not lost on Roxanne that it wasn't her father, or even her mother, that came to confront the intruder - no, it was her _August_ , barely even a legal adult. His youth, his uncertainty, the burden he's taken on so early, it all radiates off him as he stumbles in place.

When it seems like he's about to faint, she instinctively lurches, catching him by his shoulders to ground him.

He looks at her like he's seeing a ghost, moonlight swimming in his unshed tears. "... _Roxanne?_ "

"Yeah," she confirms, voice soft. "Yeah, it's me, hermano."

"Pensé que estabas _muerto_." I thought you were _dead_.

The new solo takes it upon herself to break the barrier, clasping the back of his neck and pulling him into her arms, where he willingly clings back. An unspeakable feeling washes over her - nostalgia? relief? disbelief? - thinking back on all the times she _mourned_ this, convinced she'd never get to hold her siblings again, doomed to forever wonder how they were.

Even as he works his way into burying himself into her, choking on himself, he accuses. "Why didn't you ever come back? _Why didn't you ever come back?_ "

Roxanne knows that that feeling has transcended to reach them, too.

Never again.

"I only escaped recently," she half-lies. 'Recently' is... loosely defined here. It's been a whole _year_ now, but she needed time to herself. To hide. To recoup. To figure out her next move. "And I figured mom and dad would still be supporting you, if they didn't ship you off next."

The bitterness of that makes him draw back, though not far. "...I don't know where they are, Roxy. All I know is that, one day, they didn't come home. It's just me and the twins, now."

Roxanne sighs, squeezing August's forearms. They must've gotten into some bad shit, and while August doesn't know the details, he's aware enough to live with the knowledge.

She's not sure how she's supposed to act about it, or how she's meant to match the sadness August speaks with... They're her _parents_. There were times they were so good to her and her siblings. They were only so desperate, because they cared so much.

But the new solo is too close to the painful end of their parenting and has grown too hard with the world.

"No, it isn't. _I'm_ here now."

Through his anguish, he scoffs. "Doing _what?_ Where are you _getting_ these eddies, Roxanne?"

"I'm a solo."

There's no use in lying about it, if Roxanne wants to move them out to Night City with her. Still, it's what makes Augustin put the wall back up, stepping farther, furrowed brow tightening, breath hitching - horrified and disappointed all at once.

"You mean you're a _murderer._ "

Maybe. She was certainly a murderer far before she became a solo, but she can't tell if it's something that grew in MAX-TAC or... if it was always there. There was no _snapping_ feeling, no _shift_ in her heart, no _awakening_ of a special breed of herself. Like when she became an official adult, she found herself feeling no different from when she was considered a child.

Roxanne kills and, at the end of it, she's somehow still Roxanne.

But Augustin's heart is too kind for violence. That hasn't changed.

She might lose them all again over this, she knows.

So Roxanne doesn't answer, letting him decide where they stand now. The solo watches her brother’s unsure judgment, looking her up and down, eyes flickering to the duffle bag of eddies. Maybe he hates her. Maybe his opinion can change on her, just like that. "...Who did you - "

A soft cry breaks out.

A baby.

Her first thought is of the twins, with no frame of reference for them other than when she last saw them, but _no_. They're older now - thirteen or fourteen, almost as old as Roxanne when she was given away. There's another child in the house.

"Don't tell me you're already a _dad_."

It's a joke, but Augustin continues to look caught, rather than giving that _stink-eye_ in that way he does.

" _...Are you?_ " _Is she an aunt now?_ A familiar warmth fills her that she quickly smothers, not wanting to get her hopes up.

"It's..." He pauses, like he doesn't want to admit it, like he hasn't decided she's still part of this family or not. "... _Yes_ , she's mine."

_She. A girl._

Maybe nothing shifted in Roxanne when she first killed, but something does now, knowing she's listening to the cries of a baby niece.

For a moment, Augustin must put aside his morals. For a moment, Augustin must forget about her career. For a moment, Augustin must take pity on the look on her face.

Because he offers, "...You wanna go meet her?"

* * *

She ignores how warily Augustin eyes her as she lies adjacent to her niece, cradling coming back to her so _naturally_. She used to hate it, having to play the role of a second mother, simply because she was the eldest and a girl. Now... _God,_ she never thought she'd miss babies so much. Even in the night, she can see the black, teary eyes of Lucida. Distracted from whatever ailed her, they look up at her innocent, bewildered, trying to figure out the stranger that Roxanne is.

Mods are such a necessity in the world now, but there's nothing quite like the untampered biology of a child. It's wholesome. Untainted and unharmed. A little piece of heaven on Earth. It's impossible to maintain it, but Roxanne can appreciate it for what it is now.

"Hola, sobrina," she coos softly to Lucida's sniffling, wiggling her index into her sisters palm, to feel her tiny little grip. "¿Tuviste un mal sueño? Pobre bebé. Todo está bien ahora." Hey, niece. Did you have a bad dream? Poor baby. It's all okay now.

There's a long pause, before her niece huffs and sighs, a whine in her throat. For a two year old, she's not much one for words.

"You talkin' to her?"

"Wh - Of course I'm talkin' to her!" August whisper-yell's, and she throws a smile at his obvious defensiveness. Roxanne believes him, but it's very reminiscent of their squabbles. His wariness towards his own older sister drops, though, finally closing the gap between them; with a pinch of his nose bridge and withering sigh, he joins them in Lucida's bed, squeezing himself in. He seems tired, and not just because it's the middle of the night. "I don't know what's going on. I'm trying not to overwhelm her with Spanish _and_ English, but none of it sticks anyway."

"Ah, _está bien._ It took _you_ 'til you were five to start speaking full sentences."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," she smiles at the memory, watching as Lucida is already drifting back to sleep, turning and curling into her father's chest. "Meanwhile, mamá said I started early, and had a _smart-mouth_ ever since. So... she'll probably be okay. Turn out smart, like you."

It was meant to be a compliment, but August's brow is back into that worrying furrow, obviously disliking the implication. A pause drifts between them.

"...They... _did_ try to get you back."

 _T'ch._ They wouldn't have had to reclaim her if they didn't forfeit her to begin with.

"I mean it, Roxy. They'd go out every day, begging lawyers to help them. Papá would go into big corpo offices and tear the place apart, looking for you, before security would throw him out - he was like a _madman_. It was driving them crazy that they didn't know where you were. They thought you just - would've gotten a desk job or something, where they'd at least get to visit you," her brother explains, and something... _sympathetic_ tugs at Roxanne. All the lack of visits, forgotten birthday's - maybe her higher ups kept them from her, for whatever reason...?

They're her _parents_. There were times they were so good to her and her siblings. They were only so desperate, because they cared so much. She's lying if she says she doesn't have love for them.

"...Where _did_ you go? It's been almost _ten years_. You said you had to _escape_..."

But she looks between the two of Augustin's sad eyes, remembering the day she was pulled away, right in front of him. Reminding herself. "I was put in psychosquad."

The thing is, at the end of it all, they still _did_ it. The story is still the same.

They believed in some nasty neighbor kid they didn't even _like_ , over their own child. Her father put their teenage daughter in the hands of scumbag big-wigs - of _strangers_ \- who were out to throw them on the street, so they could hoard more riches than they already had. They saw the corruption of the world, and placed her at the mercy of it.

They're their _fucking kids_ , for Christ's sake. Out of anyone in the world, Roxanne would think she'd get to rely on her _parents_. But, no, she only belongs to herself now.

...Well, she could belong to the family she has left too, if her brother will have her.

"None of it matters now. I'm here, and I want to provide. I want to move you to one of the better districts," she announces into the night, prompting his decision. This is it. Her parents are gone, but it's up to her August to turn her away a second time. "If you'll still have me in your life."

Though careful not to wake Lucida, he still scoffs. " _Yeah,_ with what, your hired-gun money? No thanks."

"You _saw_ how hard it was for papá to make a living honestly. This is the new world order, August. When eddies are eddies, what's it matter where it comes from?"

"This is the type of shit that got you sent away the first time."

_Ouch._

"No, I - _I didn't mean it like that_. I'm sorry," But he immediately backtracks, regretting it as soon as it leaves his mouth. "I just mean - I can't bring _gangster shit_ into this house, Roxy. I just can't. At least, here, we can keep our heads down and mind our own business."

"Until a psychosuit tries to flatten you with a steam roller."

He doesn't have much reply for that, just staring at her.

"I know how to be anonymous. No one knows you're here. The only 'gangster shit' that'll be in this house is _me_..." she reassures, but it's what she's about to offer that makes her really afraid. "...But, if that's too much, if you need me out of your life - I'll _go_. I will. Because I'd do anything for you, even leave."

It's a kind of love that hurts, but it's the most honest she's ever felt in her life. August could've shot her on the edge of that window, and Roxanne would've forgiven him. If the best thing she can do for them is _be gone_ , then she'll accept it.

Her brother still stares, but this time, tears swim in his eyes again.

"This is all going to flatline you someday. It will. How am I supposed to live with that?"

His concern is the last nail in the coffin, is his final answer; she's back home. The solo wishes she could crack a joke and reassure him. She's survived Santo Domingo, she's survived MAX-TAC, what else could possibly go wrong? Surely, at this point, Roxanne will live forever.

But it's not only untrue, it's not really the _point_ of soloing. It's meant to be about setting herself on fire in competition to be the biggest light. It's meant to be about loving her family but wanting something for _herself_ too. It's meant to be about her radical act against the system being _to be happy_. Despite their best efforts, _to be happy_ , even if she has to steal the entire city from them to do it. Even if she doesn’t deserve it.

Roxanne _could_ scrape to get by, like her August does, like her parents did. Roxanne _could_ keep herself struggling, and miserable, and forgotten, in the name of being ethically responsible.

But she's not selfless, like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12-PAGED LONG CHAPTER, HERE YOU GO. again, follow me @nightcringey on tumblr for more content ft. actual digital art, if you're into that


	7. ¿sexy juego de ruedas, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that the spanish translation is in the highlights!

Jackie's an alright guy, who wants to show her around the city.

It's kind of redundant when half the people he wanted her to meet, she already knows. They've already found out by now that they have a mutual friend in Viktor, and by extension Misty. Pepe, too, from all the time she's schmoozed with him and he's snuck her free drinks. It's only by slim chance she didn't meet Guadelupe before their, uh, _surprise introduction_.

Maybe it would've been better if she did, because it _hasn't been going well_ this past week. Guadalupe isn't outright antagonistic, so she can't find it within herself to dislike the lady, but - Roxanne's clearly never being adopted into the family like Vera, and they aren't familiar enough that she's allowed to be 'Mama Welles' for her, like she is for half of Heywood.

Regardless, her son is insistent on taking her out. If not to meet somebodies than to meet _somethings_.

"To make up for the whole Stints thing."

"It's already _okay_ ," she stresses over breakfast, amused he's even still on it. Watching him beat the snot out of Kirk's bodyguard was satisfying enough. "I told you. I wanted you to help me get back at Kirk. We did that."

"You also said I was helpin' _you_ help _me_ ," he points, "Just lemme show you around, alright? You been too busy survivin' on the street. Got all the _smarts_ for it, and nowhere to put it."

" _Oho_ , I see. So now you're taking me under your _wing_ , are you?"

"Why not?" he smiles, closed-mouth, around a chew of eggs. "You wanna be a fixer in this city, ya gotta _know_ her."

It's not a terrible idea, getting a like-minded Heywood native to show her the twists and turns, introduce her to some connections. In the meantime, they get higher pays to split between the two of them; a symbiotic relationship, despite his insistence that this is a favor to her. No one ever said Roxy had to achieve her goals _alone_.

So she agrees.

And Jackie takes her to a garage. He unlocks the door and hefts it up to reveal a real man cave, if she's ever seen one. It's dimly lit in a soft glow, littered with unopened beers, varying kinds of weights, and posters full of skin. The motorcycle in the corner catches her eye near instantly, the newfound light from the opening glinting off its gold accents attractively.

Jackie welcomes her in with a casual wave of his hand, drifting off to a door on the side, which opens to an extra room. "Siéntase como en su casa! Be right out." Make yourself at home!

She takes tentative steps inside, hands in her pockets, gaze combing over everything.

There's a whole bench-press area right up front, macho motivational posters scattered behind it. She toes a hand weight, checking the pounds on it - It's not like she needs a number to tell her that the former Valentino is strong, but it's no wonder he's so... _huge_.

Not that she's been looking. It's just _obvious_.

Speaking of skin, a few pinup posters draw her attention. A tattooed and augmented woman, covering her more scandalous parts just barely. A shirtless, glistening man straddling a giant gun as it goes off, the phallic imagery not lost on her. Even a _nun_ , pulling apart her robes to reveal plush breasts. " _Oho_. No man cave's complete without a couple of these, eh?"

He peeks his head through the still open door, the movement of his arms revealing he's changing clothes just behind the wall.

"Oh! Yeah, they're, uh... _collectibles_ ," Jackie clears his throat. "Don't print 'em anymore."

"That's definitely why you have them up, sure." To be exposed to light and dust and fading... Because they're 'rare collectibles', and he only has them for 'collecting'.

"It ain't like it's porn! They're - _classy_ , y'know?"

"Still," Roxanne cocks a brow at him, eyes flickering downward to a body she can't see, emphasizing her point. "Gets the blood pumping, don't it?"

The pull of his zipper rings a little loud, her partner clearing his throat again as a handsome flush takes up his face. He ducks his head, grumbling something in their first tongue that sounds suspiciously like ' _provocadora_ '; calling her a tease. She only bullies him so much because he makes it _easy_.

Next is a little desk area, scarce except for an... empty lizard terrarium? "You babysit reptiles on the side?"

"Aw, that's Manny's old home!" he calls from the other room, mood already lifted, "Miss that cuddly little fucker, but mi hermana took 'im in when she moved out. Probably better for him."

"And Manny is...?"

He peeks his head out again, and the streetkid's nearly _blinded_ with the joy radiating from his face, "Pet iguana! _Real thing,_ too. A, uh, Lesser Intilian, I think. Folds for days all up in his neck."

It takes a moment for her brain to buffer what this information means. A lesser _what?_

"...Do you... _like_ lizards?"

"Yeah, sure, ¿por qué no?" he shrugs jovially, "Animals are pretty neat. Shame they're goin' extinct." (...) why not?

...Okay, so, she'll finally admit it. Jackie _might_ be kind of _cute_.

Roxanne can't do much but drink in the little _passion_ she sees, snorting, endeared. It's a little addicting, even, because she asks, "Where'd you learn all that?"

"Saw this thing on TV as a kid - " He rattles on as he's behind the wall again, fabric shifting and belt buckles clinking together, giving the streetkid the opportunity to take stock of everything once again. Everything in here, it's a little glimpse into Jackie's character. It tells stories of things he does, things he likes, what occupies his head and holds his heart. Sure, there's Guadalupe's home, but - this is _his_ domain, a little pocket that's _just for him_ , in all of ever-consuming Night City.

And he's welcomed her in it. Offered space for her, in his bubble. She feels a little bad for making fun of his posters now.

The bike has been nagging her peripheral, especially. She's maybe been avoiding it, not wanting to intrude in its space. Roxanne has no hang-ups about taking, breaking, and stealing herself another vehicle, but to some people it's a _precious_ thing. Jackie, for one, takes his toys pretty seriously - the motorcycle is custom, she realizes, exhibits of him even _here._ Valentino motifs crafted badly into its chassis and tail, probably hand-painted by himself. _Tuned_ by himself too, Arch branded, but tools surrounding the sleek two-wheel like offerings to a shrine.

 _He likes animals, doodling, and tinkering_ , Roxanne concludes a little fondly, a silent smile to herself.

She wonders if the red leather seat is his doing too. If he did it, because it's a color he finds flattering. Her fingernails brush it, ever so gently, looking for imperfections that tell of a human touch -

"¿Sexy juego de ruedas, eh?" Sexy set of wheels, huh?

Jackie's done changing, done talking about animals, leaning on his doorframe with a palm on his hip. She quickly retracts her hand back into her pocket, like she was just caught with it in the cookie jar.

"Aw, don't be _shy_ now," he chuckles, winking, "I get it. Peeps dig the bike."

"Must be admiring your _'artwork'_ ," she shoots back, looking him up and down. He's changed into a pair of jeans and leather chaps, exactly for riding.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a better mechanic than an artist - _promise_ ," he says as he approaches the motorcycle, takes it by the handles, and begins herding it out the garage. It's gold and red accents pop in the sunlight, painted chassis almost glittering. He plans to take her on it, she realizes, Roxanne following behind.

"I've never been on a motorcycle before."

It's just an idle comment, more to herself than anything, but Jackie perks up in acknowledgement, "What, _never?_ In your whole life?"

"Nope."

He turns his Arch towards the road, but stops to throw her an incredulous look, still smiling boyishly, " _You're twenty-five_."

She sucks her teeth at that, because, _oh, like she's so repressed_ , "I've been on a... golf cart."

Not really all that impressive, turns out. Still, Jackie's following laugh isn't cruel, interested, waiting for further clarification. Roxanne's made it a personal rule to keep her past life and current life fairly segregated. She doesn't know Heywood like she does Santo Domingo and doesn't put her faith in strangers over faith in _herself_. There's no telling what information can be used to track down her roots, _her family_ , so it's safer to just hide _as much as possible_. Her and Jackie haven't known each other long, and she's not about to bend that quickly, no matter _how_ cute he is.

...Yet, he trusted her with his space, and all it's tells. It's all little, inconsequential information, but still. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to... share just a _small_ part of herself. Something dumb and so specific and personal to _her_ , she doubts there's any documentation on it.

Those are the memories that count, anyway, right?

"An old input I had as a teenager - she and I found one just _dumped_ somewhere," she half-lies. It _was_ broken, and _was_ left to rot, but 'dumped' is more like 'abandoned'; it was right at home, sitting in a half-complete golf course, yet another tourist trap that the corp never bothered to finish. Santo Domingo is the _graveyard_ of attempted gentrification, like that. Both a point of pride and contention. "Quick-fixed it and sped around, causing hell. Neighbors _hated_ it."

It's a stupid story, if even that, but Jackie's grin turns toothy as he chuckles, "Your girlfriend sounds like a riot. She still live in Heywood? Could pick her up, take the golf cart instead, huh?"

He's just kidding around, prodding for more information, looking for the possibility of a playdate with a new friend. But she's unable to keep from the thought turning cold, voice coming out blunt, "We had a bad breakup."

'Breakup', _ha_. Rigel, the final nail in the coffin to placing her in MaxTac. It gave Roxy plenty of time to stew in the betrayal, grow wiser with hurt and age, reflect on their relationship.

She never did clarify if they were just fuckbuddies or a couple, anyway. Not because Roxy preferred either or, but because Rigel liked to play _mind games_. Even when she took her virginity, she suddenly ' _couldn't see herself with a girl like her_ ' the next morning, subtly criticizing her inexperience and looks.

It would only be later, when Roxanne grew up, that she'd realize it was all _planned._ A scheme to make the streetkid work for her attentions, in _everything_ , Rigel putting her down only to pick her back up when she was _bored_.

And Roxy _, a stupid kid_ , crawled back every time without ever knowing why.

"That sucks," he says simply, though not apathetically, his own breakups clearly coming to mind, "Always miss 'em anyway, though, am I right?"

She thinks back on the golf cart. The wild smile on Rigel's face. How, when Roxy leaned out the side to feel the wind on her face, it'd melt into fond _affection_.

Her heart always aches for better times, but the ending is always the same, isn't it? "Miss things _about_ them, more like."

"We should compare notes some time," he offers, another extended hand in comradery, before straddling the Arch - leaving space for her to climb onto the back. "For now, lets make some new friends, eh? Hop on."

She does so, hesitant. It feels too open, vulnerable, like the streetkid could fly right off. Also - where does she put her hands? Neutrally, she places her palms at his middle, feather light in a testing touch.

"Might wanna hold me _tighter_ , mamacita," Though she's staring smack-dab into the bastardized depiction of Virgin Mary on his jacket, she can _hear_ the salacious grin in his voice. "This thing goes _fast_."

She scoffs, "I've survived worse things - "

Roxanne _lurches_ back as the Arch jerks forward, feeling her ass teetering in its seat. She instinctively reaches for something solid - that being Jackie, arms tense around his waist.

"Oh, now we're _really_ gettin' to know each other - "

" _Cállate, idiota_."

He chuckles, successfully having made fun of her, before kicking off with a roar of the engine.

* * *

He can stick some iron in her face, and she won't blink, but a ride on a _bike_ makes her sink her claws into him.

Jackie would bet money it's the _only_ time he's _ever_ going to see her lose her chill, and even then, he can't see much at all. He can just feel her tight hold, her forehead pressed against his back, her tense legs on each side of his hips. _Still_ , he's gonna revel in it; lord it over her at every given opportunity.

It takes a couple of turned corners, but slowly, V eases.

The ride feels easier for it, too, curving smoothly against gravel and past cars. Drifting through the air, like he could swim in the sky. A small fortune, the Arch was, but incredibly worth it; nobody can convince him there's a price tag _too great_ for this feeling. Over the wind whipping their ears, over the roar of the engine, he teases, "See? Arch ain't such a boogeyman, after all."

But apparently he doesn't have to tell her, because - in a move that scares _him_ this time - he feels the streetkid lift herself into a stand on the pegs, " _Oye, oye, oye - !_ V, what're you - "

But she's laughing. _Giggling._ An open, pure, joyful sound. He can't look at her, but he imagines her eyes closed, feeling the wind lap her cheeks and muss up her hair.

And Jackie revels in that too, stubborn to keep the ride smooth, so she can live in that a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seems to be the time of "talking about old girlfriends" in the jackie/v fanfiction world, huh???
> 
> ACTUALLY NEW CONTENT. i felt i was initially rushing with the six month timeskip, and then the two year timeskip. so have some filler ft. roxy and jackie getting to know each other.
> 
> time for canon divergence notes  
> \- this isn't so much canon divergence so much as it's v customization but - guadelupe and roxanne's relationship is a LITTLE more complicated, rather than her just liking v.  
> \- it seemed silly to me that v supposedly "knew the real jackie" but didn't know about his garage???  
> \- i know jackie's "collectibles" all feature women. but im dying on the hill of bisexual jackie welles.  
> \- i didn't do the nomad playthrough, but V & JACKIE WOULD'VE STOLEN THE LIZARD AND KEPT A PET TOGETHER. this is a hill im also dying on. another mention of @solo-net's vera!


	8. symbiotic relationship

It's no wonder they have so many mutual associates - Jackie's _very_ well-liked.

While showing her around the city, they run into street vendors, street walkers, everyone from average joe's to gangoons, that all know her partner on a first name basis. He stops to say hello to _every_ single one, buying a snack to share with her when he can, asking about kids or car troubles.

On one of said stops, she catches sight of a club she’s actually not _totally_ ignorant of, right across the street. Only because she remembers her madre telling her it used to house the dead, so they could be prepped for burial; an old ideal that signified letting go of the lost, to be taken back into the Earth they once walked, _yadda yadda_. Now, it's lively with citizens bustling around the entrance and music vibrating through the concrete, a great neon sign ironically dubbing it 'Afterlife'.

"You ever been there?

Jackie peers over his shoulder, follows her gaze. "Ah, _that_ right there is the heart of Night City, chica. Just as much as a place for biz as partyin', so - _naw_. Never been requested. One day, though."

'Heart of Night City'. She can tell it's top-tier bucket-list material, for him; it's the way the words are packed with awe, a sparkle in his eye as he drinks in the building, like it's new to him all over again. Following the theme of today, the streetkid comes to learn that her partner's _quite sappy_ when he wants to be, smiling to herself, "Awful poetic for a place that used to be a morgue."

" _Really?_ Huh, didn't know that. Makes sense, though," Jackie shrugs, taking another broad bite of one of his dango dumplings, "Not many legends make it to jubilación." (...)retirement.

...She snorts, but her smile drops, brow along with it, " _¿Cómo?_ " _What?_

"You gotta - _Hold on_ ," He chews more, before swallowing, "You gotta go out with a bang to make headway! Who ain't gonna remember the guy who - _blew himself to pieces_ to get back at Arasaka, like Johnny Silverhand? You know?"

Despite the subject matter, he's smiling a signature bright, pitbull grin, and Roxanne's a little cowed. "And you _want_ that?"

"'Ey, we're all goin' out anyway, right? Vive rápido, muere joven." Live fast, die young.

It's disturbing how casually Jackie _accepts_ that fate. Easy to smile and laugh, unabashed in his boyishness, _Jackie_. She would think a man so full of life would fantasize about retiring on a sunny beachfront somewhere, maybe settle down and have a couple of kids - not how the headlines of his _gruesome death_ will make him _famous_.

It's one thing to give in to this city's death wish; if they wanna stop pawing at the scraps, they have to grind, fight, _kill_ for it. How far will they stoop? How much are they willing to steal from others? Their agency, to be remembered in a disposable world, to get satisfaction and fulfillment in life - how much is that _worth?_

At least that _means_ something, to ask those questions and be confident in their answer. If that makes Roxanne a villain, then _whatever_ , she'll be a villain.

Yet, all that talk, and - _what?_ Sure, she'll get rewards to reap, but she's only allowed a limited amount of time with it, before she's gotta die like a dog? Meanwhile, corps are getting the least amount of mess, the most amount of healthcare and security, thus living full lives in their money hoarding little bubbles.

Roxanne snorts. _Seems convenient_ , that the poor can be successful, but gotta _die_ to do it. Can't have competition with _street scum_ , can they?

"We'll see," is all she commits to for now, staring down the Afterlife's neon sign.

She hears her partner snicker beside her, bringing her back from her thoughts. She looks up to find him hiding the same smile behind the two other dumplings left on his stick, clearly amused with himself, "Ain't enough for you to be en el juego, huh? Gotta shake it up, too." (...) in the game (...)

His joy is pretty infectious, because she huffs a laugh too, shrugging, "Nothing's ever enough for me."

Crooked grin still on his face, Jackie stares.

"... _What?_ "

" _Nadaaa_ ," he sing-songs, gazing back at the Afterlife, "Startin' to like the look in your eye, is all."

She would be ashamed to admit her brain buffers. What’s that mean?

In that quiet confusion, Jackie moves on quickly, without clarification. He takes the second dumpling off the stick, plops it in his mouth, and then hands her the last one to eat before trailing back to his bike, " _C'mon!_ Got a guy I want you to meet. Advertise our services to."

Roxanne blinks, follows, twirling the stick in her hand, "'Services'?"

"M’sure you noticed that Night City's infested with ads," he says, pep to his step, "But there ain't nothin' _quite_ like word-of-mouth."

* * *

Word-of-mouth extends to the Valentinos, apparently, which shouldn't surprise her. _It does_ , though, not because she's opposed with getting involved in gang shit, but... Isn’t that what gang _members_ are for?

As they approach their table in El Coyote - where it always seems to start - 'Tinos welcome Jackie with shouts and whistles, standing to offer _hugs_ that he readily accepts with squeezing arms of his own. A scrawny guy, from their booth, calls, "Didn't realize you were in the business of mentoring, Welles!"

He seems to like the thought, preening, throwing a smoldering look at her, " _Eh_ , what can I say? Got a heart of gold."

"And an ass of _dumb_." Still, being in a good mood, she gives him a sporty pat on said ass, to shuffle him faster into his seat - and ignores his flinch and surprised, playful grin.

Again, _not looking_. Just paying forth some camaraderie. It's like - football rules.

When she starts scooting herself in, though, another member’s hand stops her. A macho type, tatted to the ears, "Not your seat, chica. Padre could use a little company, hm?"

He points, and Roxanne follows its direction towards the bar, where a withered old man sits with his hands clasped in front of him. He's short in stature, dressed polite, save for tattoos and another large gold cross. Not the type one would expect to be in street business.

It's clearly a set up for them to talk, _alone_. Roxanne has half a mind to suspect Jackie's trying to initiate her.

"What's wrong?" the same man _smirks_ , smarmy, "Need Welles over here to hold your hand?"

" _Por favor_. Pointed my Glock at her just the other day, and V didn't even _flinch_ ," Jackie's smile is still friendly, teasing as he smacks the man’s arm, but she knows a defense in her honor when she hears one. Because if _she_ looks like a pussy, he's the guy who _brought in_ a pussy. "Bet she could make _you_ piss yourself."

The machismos chuffs gruffly, offended at being challenged by one of his own, "Well, talk is cheap, ain't it?"

Not even a sense of irony, this one; he throws out big taunts for a man who doesn't stick out a whole lot. Roxanne isn't bothered. She's not here to prove anything to _him_ , after all, grinning down with a "It _sure_ is," before making way to her seat.

She does good not to jump or stop her stroll when a hand lightly smacks her ass, looking over her shoulder instead to find Jackie _grinning_ a little too coyly. He shouts out to her, loud enough that it's certain Padre can hear, "He's gonna like you! Can feel it in my gut!"

_Psh!_ Gonk. To think someone so damn goofy was allowed to run with the Valentinos.

"Hope we don't make a liar out of Jackie's guts today," she approaches, though he doesn't so much as quirk a lip. Instead, he gestures to her seat wordlessly, and Roxanne follows the silent request. "Name's V. You the boss around here?"

"Of the Valentinos? No. That'd be Gustavo. As a fixer, yes," he clarifies with a wave of his hand. Ah, so she isn't being initiated, after all. Just interviewed. "We're all friends here, though. Used to be their priest."

"...'Padre'," she realizes, "You're an _actual_ Father."

"Still hold communes on Sunday with the Valentinos. Only church that will take them, apparently," he nods informatively, "If you'd be interested."

Now _that_ sounds like it doubles as initiation.

"... _Ehh_ , if... that's required?"

This time, Padre has the good humor to chuckle, " _No, no,_ I don't discriminate. We're all equal in the eyes of God, el sí?"

"How about this? I'll go if Jackie does."

His smile reaches his eyes, then. Maybe it's a little grimy, to use her new partners popularity to win favor, but - he wouldn't be openly vouching for her if that wasn't the idea. A symbiotic relationship.

"I've known him since he was a boy. He'll appreciate that, I'm sure," Padre agrees, "Now, about this job..."

* * *

An easy job, an _actual_ one. Padre evidently made some deal with a suit, who entrusted a middleman to deliver the payment - but, rather, said middleman has made off with it instead. After the adrenaline of trying to steal one of the most _exclusive_ cars in the world, having a scuffle with a pack of beat cops, and shaking down a loan shark, she can't say she's not a _little_ disappointed with how low tier this is. Buncha middlemen, going after middlemen.

But Jackie reasons, "Pequeños pasos, jefecita. We do real good on the small-time stuff, and they'll see we can handle the tough shit." Baby steps, boss-lady.

And, _eh, alright_. She supposes she can relent to that. Roxanne's practical.

They track him down to Mox territory, where an employee easily sells him out and leads them to his booth, citing _he's annoying as fuck_. Drinks too much and shy’s too close to touching the girls, only just enough for deniability, so he can avoid getting kicked out. Worst yet, he got smart enough to get _some_ defenses prepared, in the form of _Tyger Claws_ ; something the lapdancer really stresses, none too happy. Now he's in a pink booth with a headset, squirming around, the briefcase full of stolen eddies flat under his palm.

"Got a ticking time-bomb in his hand, and he's blowin' it on _hookers and BD's_ ," Jackie scoffs at the sight, crossing his arms. "Stealin' from your boss _and_ a fixer, you'd think he'd flee the fuckin' city."

"Makes our job easier," She sees the huscle, just barely through the doorway of another booth, chatting away. Screwing over his own boss, stealing from a Valentino favorite, mixing rivaling gangs - this man has a _death wish._ Which means he's willing to kick up a real fit, if confronted. Sighing to herself, she decides she isn't too keen on getting caught in the middle, "As much as I'd like to rid the working girls of this little man, probably better to just slip the briefcase from him."

"Like stealin' candy from a baby. Almost feel bad," he snorts, not even remotely meaning it, "I'll keep an eye on the huscle. You nab the case."

Really, she's just giving him a hard time for the sake of it, but still. " _Oh?_ What happened to 'jefecita'?"

" _You're_ the pick-pocket. 'Sides..." Jackie throws another smoldering look, holds a hand up, wiggling his digits at her for emphasis, "You got them pretty, slender fingers ~ ."

What he _means_ is he's got ham hands and all the tact of a bull, but what comes out his mouth is much more flattering. Roxanne indulges, just for a moment, "Like my hands, do you?"

"Maybe," he admits with ease, Roxanne tilting away from a tickle under her chin, "Might inspire a certain kinda thought. Or three."

"I'm sure yours do too, Jack-Baby."

_Okay, maybe a little too much_ , because that makes her partners grin turn outright _toothy_. He perks, straightening a little, " _Oh yeah?_ Tell me 'bout it..."

"Didn't say _I_ was inspired," she excuses quickly, sneaking another smack to his ass before moving on to the booth - with a bit of a skip to her step, narrowly avoiding a vengeful pinch to hers. " _Very_ unprofessional to flirt on the job, Mr. Welles."

"And here I was thinkin' you _like_ mixin' business with pleasure, mamacita."

He’s got her pegged on that front. She wouldn't put up with him, otherwise.

At the very least, he behaves once they're _inside_ the booth. The larger solo leans by the doorway, acting as the bodyguard and effectively shielding her from any sideways glances. Roxanne takes the thief in, half-hard in his pants, jaw laxed open like he was knocked out, _completely_ oblivious of the two people in the room with him.

She never did like the thought of BDs. Virtus. _Anything_ that can make her unaware of herself, alter her state of being, puppeteer her around like -

Well. Today, it'll be serving _her_ interests.

She eyes the briefcase. So just - _take it,_ right?

Her partner has a point about this being like stealing candy from a baby, Roxanne feeling a little like a kid again - pocketing chocolate bars and cigarettes - as she grabs its handle, and _prys_ it out from under his palm. A slow movement, so as not to jostle his attentions. He really is fuckin' out of it; can't even tell when something is _moving_ in his hand.

Until their target suddenly _sits up_ in a rather _non-immersed_ way, mouth closed.

Can't run, already having the case halfway off the seat and suspended in air. Can't exactly _slide it back either_. Can't even alert Jackie, without having the guy hear her. Caught in the middle, she's forced to freeze and stare him down, hoping he won't get a whiff of another presence in the room.

Both her and the semi-aware party pause.

He rips off his headset.

" _\- What in the fuck_ \- " Roxanne snaps backwards, but not fast enough to keep the suit from vice gripping its edge with both hands, tug-o-warring it with her. From the corner of her vision, she catches Jackie whipping around. "Who let you in here?! _GUARDS! HELP!_ "

Jackie's fist flies into the suits face, a sickening _thwack_ ringing out in the room as it knocks him out cold, _immediately_. It probably shouldn't be funny - _they just got caught_ \- but Roxanne absolutely _cackles_ with the adrenaline of it, even as huscle begins approaching. Shoving Jackie's big ass out the door, they break into a full out _sprint_ down the hall, the huscle choking on their dust before they can even assess what happened.

Roxanne and Jackie don't slow down when they do, angry Japanese shouting from around the corner. Her partner makes way for the exit -

She yanks him in the other direction.

" _Qué eres -_ " He doesn't have much time to argue, yielding regardless and following her through the sea of dancers, towards the bathrooms as inconspicuously as she can manage. Leaving the building is an obvious move. With luck, those bodyguards will assume a wild goose chase. Meanwhile, Roxanne's shuffling him into the women’s restroom - fortunately empty - all the way to the disability stall at the end.

"Take off your coat. Loosen your belt, while you're at it," she orders as she deadbolts the door behind her, just in case. Not that it'll do any good against the firm shove of an augmented arm.

When she turns, Jackie's got his brows raised high.

"...I - _Now?_ Really? I mean, I _knew_ you were real freaky, but..."

"You can take off your coat _and_ keep it in your pants, tonto," she scoffs. He's such a _guy_ , dirty mind with his foul mouth. "Solo hazlo." Just do it.

He quits the jokes and shucks the article off, revealing broad shoulders, thick arms, and a shirt that's on the small side for him - but, most importantly, the corset of belts around his torso. As much as Roxanne can appreciate a good view, she also knows how to _adjust her priorities_. You know, unlike some.

"Turn around."

"Then what? Bend over?" he cracks one more time as he adjusts the loops, the leather slacking. He cooperates anyway, back to her for Roxanne to tug the belts taut again, squeezing the briefcase into the opening and wrestling it snug. " _Ooooh_... Not as excitin', though, eh?"

It's a little juvenile to hide their score under their coats, Roxanne recalling her candy-snatching days yet again, but - with the huscle not having seen their faces - the briefcase itself is a dead giveaway. Besides, Jackie's so broad and his jacket so thick, the extra heft is near invisible. She asks a little facetiously, leaning back to admire her handiwork, "Comfortable?"

" _No_ ," She realizes he stands a little stiffer now, the intrusion pressing flat against his spine, but Jackie seems otherwise unbothered as he pulls his coat back on and meets her with an easy grin. At least he's a team player. "But, _eh_ , backpain is tomorrow-Jackie's problem. Back to Padre's, yeah?"

"Sure - "

Club music blasts off the tile walls as the entrance door _slams_ open, "あなたはここにいますか、それとも愚痴の息子ですか？" Are you here, you sons of bitches?

What, really? They _aren't_ smooth-brained enough to figure they left the premises? Roxanne finds that hard to believe, but she's figuring out fast that it doesn't matter what she _thinks_. No windows in this club, much less the bathrooms, so no prompt ditching-your-date styled exits. It was probably a gonk idea to duck into the restrooms at all, now realizing she's only _cornered_ herself.

_Amateur hour. Shit._ It's times like these that life humbles her with reminders that she has _much_ to learn.

As Roxanne reels for ideas, though, Jackie's already onto one as he quickly _sweeps_ her up into an embrace, waddles over to the sink to half-hazardly _plop_ her onto it, and welcomes himself to the space between her thighs. None with too much tact, her lectures on _presumptuousness_ dying in her throat as the gangoon is alerted, stomping over, and _kicking_ the door with so much force it _breaks_ from its hinges.

And Jackie yells with what feels like all the force in his lungs, "¿NO PUEDE UN HOMBRE OBTENER UN POCO DE PRIVACIDAD AQUÍ?" CAN'T A MAN GET A LITTLE PRIVACY HERE?

The muscle-head withers.

" _LA MIERDA_ , CIERRA LA PUERTA!" _THE SHIT,_ CLOSE THE DOOR!

The door has long since clattered to the floor, though, the huscle fumbling through the air for it, before opting to just dash out with a shy "S-Sorry!"

As he leaves the washrooms with yet another slam, the both of them linger like that, Roxanne absorbing the sudden win.

"What a dumbass," Jackie speaks up, casual as he pleases, even pressed between her legs, "Didn't even notice our pants are, like, _fully on._ "

She'll never figure out _why_ that's so funny. If it's his tone, or the former adrenaline, or the fact that they just _embarrassed_ a bloodthirsty Tyger Claw with faux bathroom fucking, but it catches her _so_ off-guard, she folds over and _wheezes_ against his chest.

"You just - " Then, she can't stop, catching a serious case of giggles. "The _outrage!_ "

She passes it on to her partner, too, his snickering bouncing his chest.

And they're there, in the dirty restroom of Lizzie's, laughing against a crooked sink. Couple of jackass mercs, giggling at particularly nothing, drunk on their own happiness.

Roxanne can't remember the last time she’s laughed like this. It's good. Warm.

It's only once they settle that she notices his arms have wrapped loosely around her, contributing to that glow. The streetkid meets his eyes again to find one of his charming, closed-mouth smiles on his face, directed right at her. He really does look like a pitbull, but not in an unflattering way - no, in a... big-headed _hunk_ kind of way.

He teases, "You cuddlin' me, mami?"

This isn't going to last, though.

"I would say _you're_ cuddling _me_ ," she accuses, though somehow, she doesn't think he'd have a problem taking the blame. Roxanne toes his knee, and the larger solo welcomes himself to scooping her up too, arms looping under her ass to help her to the floor. With her feet hitting the tile, so too does her playful joy. "To Padre's. For real, this time. Make us some eddies."

Because, despite Jackie's friendliness compared to a week ago, despite his insistence that this is a favor to her, despite the rides on his bike and the defense of her honor and their easy banter - this is a symbiotic relationship. There's debts to be paid. He offered her space to make up for being an asshole, her presence makes him good money, and vice versa. That can be okay too, Roxanne's practical.

After all, she belongs to only herself, now. She couldn't rely on her input. She couldn't rely on her parents. Nobody will catch her relying on the kindness of some _boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops sorry for the long wait lmao

**Author's Note:**

> hey. so i tried the series thing, and it just wasn't working out for me? it was coming out kind of disjointed, hard to track, and readers didn't seem to know there was a broader story happening. so im just going back to familiar territory & putting all my stuff in one place, so that way this is the "roxanne-V place" instead of being scattered everywhere.
> 
> "i need somebody to remember my name" does not need to be read to read this, as it's purely OC backstory. but im gonna warn you, it's gonna get confusing sdkfshdf.
> 
> follow my blog @nightcringey on tumblr for more content/updates.


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